


Lost Inside a Lonely Life

by SierraNovembr



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Pov, OT4, Polyamory, They all need hugs, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, starkspangledwinterhawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraNovembr/pseuds/SierraNovembr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wakes up with no memory of the previous year and a half.  His boyfriends are understandably upset, since he’s lost their entire relationship.  But if they can’t figure out what’s wrong with Tony, reintroducing him to the finer points of polyamory is going to be the least of their problems. Time is running out and soon Tony won’t even remember who they are.  Soon Tony won’t remember anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akira_of_the_Twilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira_of_the_Twilight/gifts).



> Title is a line from "Spirits" by the Strumbellas, which seems like a very Tony/Bucky song to me, but it fit here too.

Tony slowly regains consciousness to quiet beeping and the smell of antiseptic. Hospital, then. How dreadfully typical for him. He takes stock of himself, and frowns when he realizes that he’s not in pain. Not the fuzzy sort of “not in pain” from the good stuff – genuinely unhurt. Huh. He picks his head up from the pillow to check out the room and feels a little dizzy, but it quickly passes.

Clint is slouched down in the chair beside his bed, dozing. The television in the corner is on and appears to be showing results for the Super Tuesday primary election. Which doesn’t make any goddamn sense, because it’s not an election year. He watches the newscaster go on about the primary campaigns of the major parties for a bit, waiting for someone to jump out and admit to the prank that he’s clearly woken up in. His money’s on Natasha.

After a few minutes go by with no big reveal, he decides to move things along a bit and nudges Clint awake. “Hey Katniss.”

“Well, good morning, Sunshine!” Clint hops up from his awkward position beside Tony’s bed and throws his arms out with exaggerated enthusiasm, but he’s gentle when he leans down to wrap them around Tony.

“If you say so,” Tony keeps his voice dry, but he can’t help grinning fondly at his friend and fellow Avenger. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to SHIELD medical? Did I take a hit?”

“What? No. Got a little bit of a blank, huh?”

Tony doesn’t exactly want to explain that, if this is not in fact a big joke, he is missing more than a year and a half, so he just nods.

“Steve found you unconscious in the workshop. Half the workbench you were at seems to have melted, which, yikes, what the hell were you working on?” Clint looks like he is reigning in the rest of what he wants to say. Probably some sort of rant on lab safety, which, yeah, Tony’s heard it before, thanks.

“I don’t remember. I’m not hurt though.” Tony holds up his uninjured arms and waves them at his equally uninjured body when Clint’s frown stays in place.

Clint scrunches down into the bed next to him and presses a kiss to the top of his forehead. Tony’s a little taken aback by the blatant affection, the team must have been really worried.

“We were really worried. We couldn’t wake you.”

Tony has to swallow back a lump in his throat at that. It still takes him by surprise sometimes that these amazing people care about his wellbeing beyond what Tony can make for them. His brain belatedly latches on to Clint’s earlier words. Steve found him. Steve, who has already lost so many people he cared about. It would have been awful for him to find his boyfriend like that. How long was Tony out that Steve couldn’t wait here for him to wake up? Or…is he mad? Maybe he’s realizing the risks of being with a much more breakable garden variety human and decided to use this incident to start distancing himself from Tony. He feels his anxiety start to ratchet up and forcibly pushes those thoughts aside. He’ll ask, and Steve will just be taking a breather, or getting coffee or finally resting. Tony still has to clear his throat before he can force the question out.

“Where’s Steve?”

Clint gives Tony a little squeeze where he has his arm draped over Tony’s shoulders. “He went with Bucky to his therapy session. Dr. Andrews wanted to try a session with a significant other, start some couple’s dialog, whatever.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry, hon, we hoped you’d be okay with just me since we didn’t know when you would wake up and considering what happened, Buck really needed the session.”

“A couple’s session?!”

“Yeah, well, I know it’s not really accurate, but he’s gotta start somewhere. You know the drill, Tones. When they feel you’ve reached a certain place they like to talk with you and all the important people in your life together for bonus fun.”

Oh. Okay then. That’s fine, Tony thinks. He knows how much Steve worries about his best friend. Clint probably didn’t mean it like that anyway. Not a _couple’s_ session, just a session with two people. Friends. Supportive friends. Yes.

“Don’t worry, I'll text them. As soon as they’re out of his session they’ll see it and be right over. Bucky will probably even pass on his Captain America positive reinforcement blow job.” Clint said with a wink.

Tony freezes. So, not a prank then. He trusts Clint enough to know he wouldn’t joke about Steve leaving Tony for Bucky, despite the levity in Clint’s tone. He must really have lost all that time. And, apparently, Steve as well. Well, it’s not really a surprise, is it? A year and a half has passed since the last time Tony remembers waking up. Waking up warm and lazy with Steve in his bed. Tony forces back his tears at that thought. Obviously, the whole situation is long resolved, if Clint’s attitude is any indication.

“Hey, honey, you with me?” Clint cups his hands gently around Tony’s face.

Tony manages to focus on Clint’s concerned face and nod.

Clint presses his forehead to Tony’s and whispers, “We’ll see about getting you out of here as soon as we can, okay?” Then Clint is pressing a firm kiss to Tony’s lips.

Tony manages not to squeak in surprise, his body taking over and responding to the kiss even as his mind finishes filing away this further, obvious conclusion. He’s with Clint now. He wonders at that, wonders how long it took for him to heal from losing Steve, how instrumental Clint probably was in that. He breaks off the kiss, keeping his eyes closed as a further realization sweeps through him. This isn’t fair to Clint at all. Clint, who is still gently running his hands through Tony’s hair. He isn’t Clint’s Tony – he doesn’t remember anything of the events that would have made him Clint’s Tony. He is going to end up hurting someone who obviously cares about him a great deal. He is the worst.

Tony is wrenched from his thoughts when a quiet knock sounds on the door. It opens a moment later to reveal two super soldiers with clear relief on their faces. Tony’s gaze immediately locks on to Steve. Steve looks gorgeous. His hair is a bit ruffled the way it gets after he’s been wearing his motorcycle helmet and his eyes are so blue and _of course_ Tony couldn’t keep him. Steve Rogers is so far beyond Tony Stark it was crazy to try.

“Fellas.” Steve greets as he strolls in, grin stretching out over his cheeks. Clint stands up to greet the two men.

The word seems to shake Bucky loose from where he was staring at Tony across the small room and he rushes to the bedside. His dark hair is coming out of the loose bun it was pulled up into. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, stubble just shy of an actual beard. His expression is a bit desperate and Tony has no idea why.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony can see Steve pulling Clint into a tight hug. Clint presses his face into Steve’s neck and squeezes him back. Obviously no hard feelings about dating the ex there. Tony just has time to tuck that thought away when Bucky is lightly putting his hand on Tony’s arm and his attention is firmly on the super soldier that’s rather more in his personal space at the moment.

“Tony, you- you’re really alright?” Bucky’s voice is strained.

Okay, clearly some level of friendship has grown between Bucky and himself in the time that he’s missing, but all Tony can really feel towards the man at the moment is grief and jealousy. Tony nods, but he can’t force more than the tightest of his “press” smiles onto his face.

Bucky’s brow furrows a bit at the less than verbose response, but his eyes are still tracking Tony’s face, and relief quickly swamps his expression again. “Damn, it’s good to see your eyes, beautiful.”

Tony swallows against the lump in his throat. “Not in the mood for teasing, Barnes,” he says gruffly.

At the end of the bed, Steve’s head snaps around to look at Tony. “What?”

Bucky drags his hand up Tony’s arm, confusion and pain flashing in his eyes. He reaches out to cup Tony’s jaw and Tony flinches back, hard, from the touch. Bucky freezes, clearly not even breathing. Tony watches an emotionless mask fall over Bucky’s handsome face, the Winter Soldier’s eyes now focused on where they are connected, the metal hand still on Tony’s face. 

Tony barely hears a small whimper over the noisy warning of the pulse monitor registering the way his heart has started to pound. He realizes that it was his involuntary sound just as Bucky lets go, steps back a pace, squeezes his eyes shut and takes a ragged breath. 

Tony calls out for Steve. Clint hisses a curse through his teeth as Steve launches himself at Bucky. Steve ends up plastered to Bucky’s back, whispering in his ear and covering both of Bucky’s hands with his own where they are curled into tight fists. 

No. No! Steve was supposed to step between them. He was supposed to gather Tony up and hold on and… and Tony wonders how long it will take before he instinctually remembers that Steve isn’t his anymore. Of course Steve’s priority is taking care of his boyfriend. _Of course_ he is soothing _Bucky_. Tony feels incredibly foolish.

Clint’s hand comes down on Tony’s shoulder, holding tight in what would probably be comfort if this situation weren’t so messed up. Abruptly, Tony is overwhelmed. The tears he’s been successfully subduing since Clint made their current relationships clear are suddenly too much for him. He feels his cheeks heat and it’s _all too much_. “Get out,” he says.

Bucky and Steve are both looking at him now. Steve has stopped his murmuring, but Bucky is still breathing harshly. Clint speaks up from his other side, a tentative, “Tony? Babe?”

“Get. Out.” His voice breaks on the two words and Tony feels his chest hitch with a sob. Everyone is still frozen, staring at Tony like he’s the one not behaving as expected.

“GET OUT!” He shouts, thrashing Clint’s hand off of him and feeling the world tilt as vertigo grabs him. He falls back against the pillows as a team of nurses flood his room, pushing his visitors out into the hall. The last thing he registers before the door slams shut is a pair of bewildered blue eyes and a flash of metal arm.

Then a nurse is directly in front of him, commanding his focus while he tries to get his breathing under control. She notices and starts exaggerating her own for him to follow. Once he stops hyperventilating, the vertigo passes fairly quickly, but they do a series of tests to look for the culprit anyway. Blood pressure cuff, finger stick for blood sugar, check pupil response, et cetera, et cetera. Tony explains his situation to the medical team, because the sooner they can get to the bottom of this, the better. He needs to know what he’s facing here. His thoughts seem slightly slower. He thinks? Like there’s a skip, a delay from start to conclusion. And the missing time. All those missing memories. He’s actually starting to freak himself out, now that he’s focusing on his condition, rather than who in the tower is sleeping with who. 

Tony waits while a doctor taps through various menus on her tablet, ordering MRIs and whatever other tests will hopefully clarify things, but he is having trouble tracking what she’s recommending. He nods in what seems to be the correct places and as she’s heading out of his room, asks that she send in Clint.

The archer is perched on the edge of a plastic chair in the hallway. Tony notices it gives Clint line of sight through the little window in the door. When the doctor passes on the invitation, he hesitates for moment, glancing down the corridor and shaking his head. Then, he’s through the door as soon as she clears it, worry on his face. He heads to the bed, clearly about to embrace Tony again. Tony manages to get a hand up between them and shake his head. Clint stops, steps a pace or two back from the bed and watches Tony steadily. Tony takes a deep breath. He is grateful that Clint’s not jumping in with inquiries, demands or platitudes. Tony falls a little in love with Clint at this. His calm, steady eyes are watching Tony with patience and obvious affection while Tony tries desperately to gather his thoughts.

For a moment, Tony lets himself consider playing down the amnesia – if he hides the true extent of his condition, he knows he could get away with half-truths for a while. He could hide any slip ups behind the head injury, if that’s indeed what it is, and let Clint take care of him. He could probably be happy with Clint. He remembers how solid his friend had been when things with Pepper had reached their inevitable conclusion. All of the Avengers had been there for him, but Clint was a masterful snuggler and also willing to keep Tony company through the hangovers. Plus, Clint is a very attractive man. Tony takes another a deep breath and lets that thought go. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them and he isn’t going to be that much of an asshole.

He’s apparently just enough of one to break a good man’s heart.

*********

They get bustled out of Tony’s room very effectively. Steve considers throwing around his authority and staying, but Clint shakes his head at Steve before the thought’s fully formed. Bucky has a death grip on his hand, so Steve relents and focuses on the distressed boyfriend who might let him help.

“Something’s really wrong, Stevie.” Bucky whispers as the door clicks shut in their faces.

Steve notices that Clint has taken up a seat where he can still keep eyes on what’s going on in Tony’s room, and they exchange a glance. Steve tips his head towards the bland little waiting area in an alcove just down the hall. Clint nods his understanding. Steve tugs on the hand he’s still grasping and sits Bucky down in what might be the most uncomfortable little couch he’s ever encountered. They aren’t so far removed that Steve can’t still keep an eye on Clint keeping an eye on Tony, but it feels just a bit more secluded. Bucky is still breathing harshly and won’t meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve tucks himself under Bucky’s arm and whispers, “Buck, sweetheart, talk to me.” 

Bucky’s voice is croaky when he responds, “He was afraid. He was _afraid of me._ He’s never…I – “ 

Steve turns his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck, presses small kisses into his collarbone. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. There’s clearly something going on. Tony would never respond to you like that if he were himself. We just have to let the doctors do their jobs. It’ll be alright, sweetie.”

Bucky sniffs and whispers, “You can’t know that.”

“It’s Tony. He’s far too stubborn to let this stand in the way of what he wants. And he has never wanted anything the way he wants you, so quit your grumblin’.”

It’s a weak bit of reassurance, but it earns Steve a small chuckle. He’s entirely too grateful for the little sound. He needs to keep Bucky’s spirits up as a way of keeping up his own. Steve is shying away from the alarms ringing in his head about Tony’s very odd behavior. He is NOT thinking about brain damage or personality changes. Nope.

Steve notices Clint getting up and sends him a questioning glance. Clint shakes his head and enters the room, so Steve tries to squirm into a bit more comfortable position and be patient for the answers he knows Clint will get for them.

After a few minutes, Bucky sniffs again and says, “One time when you were gettin’ out of the hospital, you snuck out three spoons in your socks that you’d filched from the lunch trays. Real or not real?”

Steve laughs, “Real, Buck. We were just movin’ in to that place by the pool hall and didn’t have much to get on with.”

Bucky hums and kisses Steve’s forehead. “I’m worried, Steve.”

“I know, sweetie. C’mon, gimme another one.”

They play “real or not real” for a while. It’s a flimsy distraction, since it was Tony’s suggestion in the first place based on something he read in some book, but it’s the best they can do right now. Bucky’s got Steve’s hand again and he’s gripping it like Steve might disappear at any minute.

They both come to attention on the couch when Bruce pokes his head into the waiting room. “Hey guys.” Bruce says. “Clint called, I guess I’ll need to assess some memory loss? What are we looking at here?”

At his side, Bucky goes rigid as a cinderblock wall. Steve swallows the panic that has risen in his throat so he can reply, but Clint beats him to the punch, calling for Bruce from the doorway of Tony’s room. Bruce steps inside as Clint slips out. Steve checks over his boyfriend as Clint approaches. He looks a bit sad and frustrated, but mostly worried. His hair and clothes are rumpled and he’d clearly spilled his coffee on the sleeve of his hoodie at some point. Steve reaches for him and Clint collapses into Steve’s arms, his feet plopping in Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s posture relaxes a bit and he starts rubbing Clint’s ankles and calves as Clint lets out a heavy sigh.

Steve gives Clint a moment, but can’t help shaking the archer gently when an explanation is not immediately offered. Clint whines a bit but pulls back to report, “He tried to dump me.”

“Excuse me?” Steve said.

Clint lets out a huge, gusty sigh. “He’s missing all his memories from the last nineteen months.”

Bucky swears colorfully under his breath.

Clint quirks a little grin at Bucky’s choice of words, but it is short-lived. “He doesn’t know about the four of us. He assumed that he and I were together by the way that I was with him when he woke up.”

Steve can see Tony’s reasoning all too well. “And now he’s gonna try to hide and lick his wounds in private.”

“Seems like it,” Clint agrees. “As if I wouldn’t stick with him, help him through this, even if it really were just the two of us. As if I would step aside and let him deal with things alone just because he doesn’t remember the first time he said he loves me. His words.” He kicks out at the coffee table in front of the terrible waiting room couch they’re all squashed on, a burst of minor violence to mask the way his voice just broke, but the table is bolted to the floor and doesn’t move as Clint clearly expected. He yelps as he stubs his toe and mumbles “Aw, table” with a glare.

“You didn’t correct him? Tell him about all of us?” Steve asks. He runs a hand up and down Clint’s back.

“I was all set to, don’t get me wrong, but something in my head told me to wait and confer with you two and make some sort of plan. It sounded like Captain America’s voice. It was very disturbing.” Clint teased.

“What the hell, Clint!” Bucky’s voice has risen and his eyes, still red-rimmed from holding back tears, are suddenly angry.

“What?”

“You left him in there,” Bucky jabs a metal finger towards the still-closed hospital room door, “thinking he’s alone. Tony is shit at being alone and now you – “

“Hey, Bucky, hang on – “ Steve tries.

“Hey!” Clint is sitting up straighter in Steve’s lap, eyes narrowed at Bucky beside them. “It’s not like Tony would let me get a word in, you know how he just steamrolls over you when he doesn’t want to hear what you have to say. AND I’m not about to try to force an amnesia patient to accept any given reality without talking to the doctors. It’s not like this is my first rodeo with this kind of thing.”

“You can’t think it’s better for him not to know about us? To be unaware of how much we all love him and want him to get better?” Bucky snaps back.

“I don’t know, Bucky! I’m just trying to figure this out too!” Clint is shouting back now.

“You have to do better with him, Clint! I can’t help him! He can’t even see me without it sending him into a meltdown.” Bucky wrenches back from Steve and hugs his arms around his chest. “Why is he reacting to me like that? Even the first time he saw me it wasn’t like that with him.” Bucky’s voice has gone quiet and aching again.

Clint sighs, “He knows you’re with Steve. I…was just talking about you guys, after he woke up, and he…inferred…that you were together.”

The last piece clicks into place. Oh, shit. “He thinks I left him for Bucky.”

“Yeah.”

That thought pierces Steve’s heart like a lance. Oh, Tony. Steve knows that the Tony from back then, the one who hadn’t gotten to know Bucky yet, who wasn’t as confident in his relationship with Steve would have been devastated to see Steve with anyone else.

Bucky abruptly stands and stalks over to the small window, his back to Steve and Clint. Steve can see the way that he is trembling. This must be agony for Bucky too, he realizes. Of course, they all four love each other and they are all worried about their Tony. But Bucky and Tony had clicked in a way no one expected. They all cared for each other, carried each other in their hearts, but Steve knew Bucky and Tony were in each other’s bones, their marrow, each becoming a vital piece of the other as they filled in each other’s emptiness in a shockingly rapid way. The three of them had actually gotten together back then for Steve’s sake but you wouldn’t have known it after only about a week. 

Steve watches his love clench his fists, clearly trying not to punch the wall, and Steve remembers how often frustration sat right under Bucky’s skin when the former Winter Soldier first came in from the cold. He feels a sharp, protective love for Bucky. It’s a long-familiar feeling, one which had thawed just as surely as the Winter Soldier melted away to reveal his Bucky, battered and bruised but not gone. Even though he was confident they would get on, he wouldn’t have suggested the relationship for all of them if he didn’t think they would each be happy after all, it was still shocking how quickly and deeply Tony and Bucky fell for one another. And to have it be memory loss on top of it happening to Tony? Steve shoots a deeply worried glance at Clint and they both scramble after their boyfriend.

Clint and Steve rise from the couch and hug Bucky from each side. They end up gently rocking him for nearly an hour while trading off quiet encouragement, filling the silence Bucky’s maintaining. Eventually, the three of them end up back on the couch to wait for Bruce’s assessment together, lost in quiet thoughts.

Steve thinks about Tony, about how brave he had always been about advancing their relationship. He remembers the first time Tony kissed him, tasting like champagne and happiness at New Year’s. He remembers the first time Tony agreed they should court Bucky, wrapped up sweaty and naked in Steve’s arms. Steve had only just gotten his heart rate slowed down after his orgasm ripped through him and the shock of hearing Tony’s acceptance had sent it rocketing back up. He’d kissed Tony senseless before whispering “Yes.” 

He’d come twice more before he was capable of using any other word.

Where their inclusion of Bucky in their relationship had been carefully negotiated to make sure they were all okay with moving to a polyamorous relationship, Clint crashed his way into their group in a bloody mess. Even now, the memory skips around in his head, bits and pieces reminding him how jarring it was to realize you wanted something when it was in the process of being yanked away. 

“I’ve got him.” Tony’s voice came through the coms very strained. 

“Where?” Steve bit out, and tried to shove the panic down long enough to listen to Tony’s expletive-laden directions. Then he was sprinting, rounding a corner to see Iron Man digging through the smoking ruins of what used to be the building Clint was perched on. He watched as the armor lifted a slab of reinforced concrete and repulsored it off to the side, revealing a panting Clint in the hollow let behind. 

Tony dropped down beside him, still cursing, and removed his helmet and gloves. Then Steve was there, staring at his broken teammate. There was a lot of blood. There was too much blood.

“Steve! Steve, what the hell is going on?!? I’m coming over there!” Bucky was shouting through the coms.

Steve had to swallow twice before he could reply; ordering Bucky to stay with Natasha, keeping eyes on the two men responsible for this whole mess, apprehended just a minute before by the redhead. Feeling like he was moving through molasses, Steve kneeled down beside Clint and took over pressing the makeshift bandage against his side for Tony. Steve’s superior strength had a better chance of keeping the blood in Clint’s body where it belonged, so Tony left him to it in favor of calling the medical team, cursing Clint’s stupidity, and threatening him with all sorts of punishments for getting himself hurt again.

Clint took it in stride, smiling up at his friend and responding, “I know, Tony, I know.”

“Shut up, Idiot.” Tony growled and then he was pressing a fierce kiss to Clint’s lips. They broke apart a moment later, Clint groaning in pain and Tony staring bewildered at the prone man beneath him. Luckily for Clint, the SHIELD medical managed to work their way through the wreckage at that moment and took over.

Steve and Tony kept a silent vigil while Clint was stabilized and loaded onto the stretcher. Tony took a moment to conceal himself fully in the armor once again, his facial expression hidden away under Iron Man’s stoic mask. Steve clapped his shoulder just before hopping up into the ambulance with Clint. “Bring Bucky to the hospital, please, Tony?”

Iron Man took off without a reply. Steve sighed and looked over to Clint, where he was smirking up from the stretcher. Suddenly, he realized how pale the archer was, barely a shade above the bleached white sheets he was laid out on. Before his logical mind could stop him, Steve was leaning over to kiss Clint himself. Clint tasted like blood and there was a singed section of his hair that smelt truly awful, but when he pulled back, something felt settled in Steve.

“All right then,” he breathed. Clint laughed and took the opportunity to pass out.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony had whispered into his neck later that evening. “I – I love him too. We – he was there for me after Pepper, he… I can’t lose him, I.” Tony let his rambling trail off in a sniff. He was curled up on Steve’s lap in Clint’s hospital room, crying quietly while they waited for Clint to wake up. The doctors said the surgery went textbook-perfect, so it was just a waiting game at this point. Steve ran his hand up and down Tony’s back as the man trembled slightly in his arms.

“Tony, you have the biggest heart I have ever, ever seen. You don’t need to apologize for loving Clint. We’re going to figure this out together, right, Buck?”

His other boyfriend didn’t respond, already standing up to rush to Clint’s side and plant a kiss of his own on the man as Clint blinked awake.

“There we go, got the whole set. You guys are really slow on the uptake, you know?” Clint rasped from the nest of pillows Bucky was busy fluffing for him. Bucky hushed him and leaned over for another kiss, while Steve ducked his head to kiss Tony’s tears away.

Clint had brought a stability to the group that they hadn’t had as a threesome. He brought a new intensity in their bed offset by jokey humor over the breakfast table. He was very adept at reading people, and his sarcasm-laden but sincere insistence that Tony take Steve out one on one or that the three of them let Bucky have a night to himself helped to smooth the occasional clashing of his boys’ very large personalities. Steve couldn’t remember a time in his life when he felt more centered, comfortable in his body and cherished for himself as he had for the last ten months with Tony, Bucky and Clint.

If Tony has forever lost the memory of the way that Bucky lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree when they finally convinced him they were serious and wanted him to give a polyamorous relationship a try; if he’s forgotten the way they were so exquisitely exhausted the first time they’d come together as the four of them, overloaded on passion until even Steve slept for nearly ten hours… He tries to push those thoughts and the resulting tears away. Steve doesn’t know how he is going to get through this if the loss is permanent, but part of him already making plans, strategizing on how to woo Tony back to them all over again.

They once had to fight to get Tony back after he was abducted by a dimension-hopping giant mechanical arachnid that wanted to mate with the armor. How much harder could a misunderstanding and Tony’s abandonment and self-esteem issues be?

Who is Steve kidding? They are all going to have to be on top of the boyfriend game in a big way if they are going to get their Tony back.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve spends the seemingly endless wait for Bruce to report back to them carefully constructing conversations with Tony in his head. He evaluates dozens of scenarios to explain their current situation and carefully considers which anecdotes to share with Tony to show him just how loved he is by all of them, but he’s not at all confident that he can get Tony to listen to him. In the end it hardly matters, any conversational strategy he might have pieced together promptly exits his brain almost as soon as Steve registers that Bruce has poked his head out of Tony’s room. Bruce is wearing his _doctor with bad news_ face.

Bucky’s hand, which had been brushing up and down Steve’s arm, trails to a stop. Clint sucks in a deep, nearly-silent breath.

“Guys. You, um, you should come in here.”

The three of them move purposefully back into the room. Clint and Bucky right at Steve’s back is all that keeps Steve from punching the wall or growling like a hunted thing when he sees Tony’s asleep in the bed. It’s just like before, his boyfriend is lying utterly still, his chest barely moving with slow breaths. He has to remind his body to keep breathing too, because Tony doesn’t sleep like this. Even at his most exhausted, he is little twitches and barely-audible mumbling. Steve feels Clint and Bucky each take one of his hands. They shuffle awkwardly in a line as Bruce nudges his way back into the room, closing the door behind the group.

“It’s like before. I can’t wake him.”

Bruce’s voice is a normal speaking volume, but it feels so out of place in a hospital with a sleeping patient. Bucky flinches slightly and Steve instinctually squeezes his hand. Bruce steps around their group and digs his knuckles into Tony’s sternum.

“HEY!”

Bruce looks up at Clint’s shout. “I know, it’s shitty, but in this case it is fairly illustrative of just how unresponsive Tony is. Don’t bother shaking him or shouting. I wanted to show you what we’re dealing with before I head back to the tower. I need to get some additional monitoring equipment.”

Steve swallows back a mixture of anger and embarrassment, remembering the way he’d shouted in Tony’s sleeping face after he found Tony in the lab the day before. 

He had been idly sketching a doodle about Clint and Tony fighting over a single cup of coffee when Friday broke into his thoughts. Her voice was high and frantic and though Steve didn’t catch what she said at first - something about the loss of visual processors in the testing area - her tone was enough to send him running for the stairs. 

“Boss is not responding to verbal queries, Captain.”

“Understood, Friday, just get those doors open for me.”

Steve’s concern spiked into panic when he made it down to the workshop to find the central workbench melted into a heap and his boyfriend face down on the floor beside it. His boyfriend who remained completely unresponsive as Steve screamed his name. He didn’t stir the entire time Steve was checking him over for visible injuries nor as Bruce and Bucky, who had been only a minute behind him into the workshop, got Tony up on a stretcher to get him downstairs to the ambulance. 

Steve felt a gentle hand on his back as he stared after the stretcher and Tony’s limp form. Clint gently steered him into one of Tony’s cars and as they waited for Friday to indicate the gate was open the feeling of gut-churning helplessness broke over him. 

“Clint, what…?” Steve’s voice broke and he felt tears sliding down his face.

Clint just shook his head; his jaw clenched so hard Steve heard his teeth grind together. A heavy silence fell and remained unbroken for the drive to SHIELD. Once he got the car parked though, Clint turned to Steve and drew him into a tight hug.

“Together, right, sweetheart? We don’t know what this is yet, but we’ll all face it together. Tony’s gonna be okay.” Clint whispered his reassurances into Steve’s neck.

“Together.” Steve forced the word out of his mouth, then forced himself out of the car. Finally, he rolled up his panic and forced it down. He took Clint’s hand and walked into the building at his side.

The helplessness and banked panic is back now, merely a day later, as the three of them stare at Bruce across Tony’s eerily peaceful form.

Steve clears his throat and manages to ask, “Bruce, what are we dealing with here? Is this something…can this even happen?”

Bruce sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Since Tony can’t say this himself, I will say that, of course, it can happen, because it has.” Bruce holds a hand up to forestall their angry replies. “But I understand what you mean, Steve. I need more data and to speak with the neurologist again before I can give you any kind of answer.” He sighs again, clearly worried and unhappy with the situation.

“One more thing. Uh, I told Tony about the four of you.”

Steve has to squash a spike of anger at the statement. He takes a breath and tells himself that although he wanted to have that important discussion himself, with all of them, given Tony’s emotional state perhaps hearing it from a trusted friend like Bruce was for the best. Bruce smiles at him, and Steve thinks that whole train of thought had probably been written out on his face. Unlike the stoic snipers still holding his hands, Steve is an open book when he’s stressed. 

“I think it might be a little overwhelming if you were all here when he wakes up, but I think any one of you would be okay to sit with him now.” Bruce’s eyes flick to Bucky’s and back to Steve’s.

“He believed you?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, the question quiet.

“He looked like he wanted to,” Bruce answers.

“What actually happened, Bruce?” “He’s gonna wake up, right?” “Will he forget again?” Questions tumble out of each of their mouths, and Bruce grimaces.

“I’m really not an expert, guys.”

“Please, Bruce, tell us what you can.” Steve tries to infuse some mild command into his tone to balance out the _panicked boyfriend_ he can hear in his voice, but judging by the way the hands on his tighten yet again, he’s not succeeding.

Bruce clears his throat and glances at each of them in turn. “He obviously couldn’t tell me anything about what happened to him, he doesn’t remember. He was fixated on you three though, to the point that he couldn’t follow any other line of conversation. I had to explain your circumstances a few times. He had trouble believing you all love each other.”

Bucky scoffed, his voice tight with emotion, “You mean he had trouble believing we all love _him_.” 

“Hm, yeah, probably.”

“What else, Bruce?” Steve asks.

“Well, he trailed off in the middle of what would likely have been a dick joke. And here we are again.”

The room falls silent for a moment. Steve takes a deep breath, holding the hospital air in his chest for a moment as he tries to order his thoughts. Exhaling, he drops his boyfriends’ hands and turns to face them. “I’d like to stay with Tony for a while, if you two would be okay with that. Not having me here when he woke up hurt him last time, though we couldn’t have known how much of a problem that would be, I need to be here for him next time he wakes up.”

Clint nods readily. Bucky looks like he wants to argue, but visibly reins himself in and nods his agreement as well.

Steve continues, “You two should go do something. Try to cheer each other up?”

“Sure thing, Steve.” Clint slides his hands around Steve’s neck and gives him a gentle kiss.

“You call us the second you need us or Tony wakes up, okay, punk?” Bucky growls at him even as he pulls Steve into a rough hug. “And you tell him, for me, right? Tell him I love him and I’d be here in a heartbeat if I hadn’t scared him and that I want him to get better. Please, Stevie.”

Steve promises and soon his boyfriends and Bruce have shuffled out. He sits in the bedside chair, scooting it a little closer to Tony’s side and waits, letting his mind spin off in several directions. He thinks about Clint and Bucky’s friendly marksmanship competitions, the movie the four of them watched last week, the combat move he is perfecting with Wanda, the aching pit in his heart whenever one of his guys gets hurt…

“Fuck, I am good!”

Steve startles out of a light dose to find Tony grinning madly in the hospital bed. “Tony? Are you okay?”

Tony’s gaze slides over to Steve and he watches the triumph on the other man’s face dim into his ‘humor the press’ smile. Steve feels his heart sink.

“Cap! What are you doing here, checking up on little old me? Not to worry, it doesn’t even hurt! Actually, that’s a little odd, it probably should hurt a little. I mean, I know Extremis is good and I am an incomparable genius, but, really, lack of pain wasn’t really in the design parameters, not like I’m not accustomed to chest pain, didn’t even really explore that, so, hey! Nifty side effect of my awesomeness. Not gonna complain about that one, yeah? Bit of dizziness though. Huh. Anyway, not really something you care about, sooooo….why are you here?”

Steve flounders a bit in the flow of words Tony unleashes. They lack the fondness, the warm undertone that Steve has grown so used to, and there is a sharp little pain in his chest when he realizes it’s been replaced by the old defensive brashness from when they’d first met. Steve squares his shoulders. He can’t blame Tony for hurting, given what the men who love him had let him believe about his place with them.

“Okay, Tony. We’re all – we’re all sorry about the misunderstanding. Bucky wanted me to tell you that he loves you and he feels awful. He wanted to be here when you woke up but we were worried about how you’d feel about that. I hope that you can forgive us and let us take care of you now.”

Tony’s jaw drops open, but he quickly shakes his head and says, incredulously, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

It’s Steve’s turn to be gob-smacked, hearing it in Tony’s voice is different, but the phrase is enough to bring awful memories of the Winter Soldier surging in his mind. When he can’t muster a response over the rushing in his ears, Tony takes it upon himself to fill the silence again. 

“Well, that was special. Thanks for that little bedside greeting…thing…whatever that was. You can go. I don’t even know why you would come. It was only a little open-heart surgery, but as I mentioned: incomparable genius. So.”

Steve listens with dawning realization and horror. Tony’s lost more memories. No wonder he’s speaking like an acquaintance. To him it has only been a few months since they met and fought together for the first time. And then split, all going their separate ways until the threat of Loki’s staff brought them together years later and they became so much more, but Tony doesn’t know that anymore. He cuts another glance at Steve, who still hasn’t found the ability to speak.

“Yeah. I get it. Malibu, right? SoCal weather’s probably just what you need after all that ice time. It’s fine. Let me get discharged and I can take you to In N Out. Get you a couple of 8x8s. No worries.”

Tony unclips the pulse monitor and pulls his hospital gown out to look at his chest. He freezes for a long moment before staring back at Steve with fear in his eyes for the first time. “Rogers, why is my chest scarred?”

“Tony…”

“How long was I unconscious? This is years old!”

Tony starts thrashing, trying to untangle himself from the bedsheets. Steve leaps out of the chair, grabbing Tony’s face and forcing their eyes to meet. Steve swallows his own fear and uses his calmest voice to say, “Three years, Tony. You had the surgery three years ago, but you haven’t been asleep, I promise.”

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Steve is going to tell him everything this time. He takes a breath and leads with, “We don’t know why yet, but you have been losing your memories.” He doesn’t get any further when pain blooms across his nose. It actually takes him a moment - embarrassing give his extensive combat experience - to realize that Tony head-butted him and is trying to fling himself out of the hospital bed. Steve grits his teeth and firmly presses the other man back against the pillow. Tony Stark, love of Steve’s life, he of the less than ideal reactions to things, continues to struggle for a minute and then aims a caustic glare at Steve when he can’t make any progress against the super-soldier.

“Start fucking talking, Rogers.” 

So Steve does. He lays out everything they know and a brief rundown of the time Tony’s missing. When Steve is finished, Tony looks defeated. 

“Can I see Pepper?”

“She’s on her way, I promise, Tony. She was at a meeting in India.”

“India? No, we won’t be staging for the India market for a few years yet…” Tony’s voice trails off as he realizes what he’s saying. 

“She’ll be here as soon as she can, ok Tony? I promise.”

Tony won’t meet Steve’s eyes, but nods in agreement when Steve asks if they can call Bruce back in for now.

Steve gently tips Tony’s face up with a finger to his chin. He meets Tony’s eyes and tries to pour every bit of reassurance and love he can into them when he promises that they are going to figure this out together. He grasps at a confidence he doesn’t feel for Tony’s sake and it kills him to know that they only reason he gets away with it is that Tony doesn’t know enough about Steve at the moment to call him on his bravado. Tony returns his look with a tentative smile though, and it helps to ease some of the lingering tightness in his chest. At this point, Steve is going to take the victories he can get.

*********  
Bucky keeps it together as he listens to Bruce’s musings on Tony’s condition on the way back to the tower. At least, he thinks he does an okay job of it. He’s had to call up a bit of Winter Soldier blankness to hide behind. He knows Bruce notices and then does his best not to keep shooting Bucky worried glances, but it is still a relief when Tony’s friend steps off the elevator on the floor with his dedicated lab space.

Bucky closes his eyes and lets himself collapse against the wall of the elevator. A moment later, a solid body collides with his and his breath huffs out of him. Clint is grinning at him when his eyes open, chin propped up on his hands, which are folded on Bucky’s chest. Bucky stays silent, but lets his eyebrows climb in question.

“Cap gave orders,” Clint purrs and starts peppering kisses up Bucky’s neck. “Time to get with the cheering.”

Bucky hums and sneaks his hands up Clint’s sides under his shirt when Clint makes it up to his mouth. He lets the kiss drag out a minute and once the archer is distracted, he flips their positions, grabbing up both of Clint’s hands and pressing them into the elevator wall over his head. Clint groans and attacks his mouth, tiny whimpers escaping as their lips part and meet again. The elevator starts moving upwards again and in a few moments the door is opening to the penthouse, Friday clearly deciding they needed to be in their private area for this.

Bucky tugs Clint off the wall and gives him a gentle push out into the main living area when the doors swish open on the floor the four of them share. He’s already stripping his shirt off and Bucky wastes no time in getting his hands on those magnificent shoulders. The two of them make their way over to the large couch and Bucky turns them both so that he’s collapsing onto it with Clint a smiling, uncoordinated pile of limbs above him. 

Bucky wriggles underneath his boyfriend, less a result of the wet stripe Clint licks up Bucky’s neck and more due to the sharp corner of something poking into the small of his back. He rummages around and manages to pull out one of Tony’s tablets. Bucky freezes, hit with a memory of Tony curled up on this couch, frantically tapping at this tablet. His hair was an absolute disaster and he was pale in the way that meant he hadn’t slept in days, a cup of lukewarm (at best) coffee cradled between his bare feet. Bucky knew he was deeply distracted, so he just planned to drop a kiss on Tony’s head on the way to the kitchen, but Tony had visibly pulled himself away from his work to tip his head up and catch Bucky’s mouth in a lingering kiss. 

Bucky feels the remembered warmth in his chest turn to ice and he gently scoots himself out from under Clint and sets the tablet on the coffee table. Clint purses his lips but quickly nods, his face smoothing out. “Let’s go down to the workshop and see if we can help Nat and Friday.”

Bucky feels shame and relief both rush in his chest. He wants to be here with his boyfriend, but his mind isn’t here, it’s stuck on a too-still form in a bed in SHIELD medical. He rasps out an “I’m sorry, Clint.”

“Nope. No, Buck, don’t apologize. Let’s go see if we can find out what’s happened to Tony this time.” Clint smacks an exaggerated kiss to the side of Bucky’s head and then hops up and goes for his discarded shirt.

They shuffle back into the elevator, which hadn’t even left the floor. Bucky slides his right hand into Clint’s and gets a reassuring squeeze in return. He holds tight to his boyfriend as they descend the tower.

Natasha starts talking as soon as she sees them between the elevator doors. “He’d been testing out the repulsor watch over the last few hours he was here. The twelve minutes proceeding the loss of visual recording were spent staring at his desk. Thirty-one seconds before losing visual, Friday recorded Tony muttering ‘Damn this thing anyway.’ He then stood, activated the repulsor and fired at the surface of his desk.”

She pauses as the floating screens in front of her play back those thirty-one seconds. Clint and Bucky make their way over to stand next to her. In the recording, Tony glares at the work surface before bringing his hand up. He raises his eyebrows and flicks his wrist almost dismissively. The recording goes white. 

“The resulting explosion was bright enough to damage the cameras and Friday then alerted the Avengers present in the tower at the time.”

Bucky is staring intently at Tony’s face as the short clip plays on repeat. He can’t wrap his head around how Tony has gone from this picture of what passes for normalcy for Tony Stark - comfortable in his skin and his space - to the scared, hurt man he’d seen in the hospital. Frustration gnaws at his throat because it just doesn’t make any damn sense. Tony wasn’t taken out fighting something from another world, shot down by a super-villain or caught in a collapsing building after getting civilians to safety - all things that had happened to one of them in the past. He’s just standing in his lab in his grease-stained tank top, unaware of what’s about to happen to him. 

Clint hums softly after the third loop and asks, “What was on the – "

Natasha, anticipating him, hands over a tablet. “List of the objects on the desk at the time.”

“Was there anything newly acquired?”

“You think something was planted?”

“I think Tony’s been more careful lately. I think if he thought he’d end up in medical and risk the combined weight of Steve’s disappointed face and Bucky’s mother-henning, he’d never have done that.”

“You’re right. It’s one thing to get hurt because he’s thrown himself around recklessly in battle, but this –"

Bucky keeps his eyes on the recording of Tony but breaks his way into the SHIELD agents’ discussion, “He doesn’t look scared or angry. He’s not defending himself. He’s exasperated.” 

The three watch the loop play through again. Bucky wants to punch a wall.

Clint huffs a nearly inaudible sigh, “I’m gonna take a look at this.” He tilts the tablet up and heads over to the couch.

Bucky, still feeling restless, turns to look at Natasha again. She must read his frustration and helplessness behind his mask; he couldn’t ever hide his thoughts from her. She stretches up to kiss his cheek, but doesn’t offer any platitudes. Instead, she tugs him over to the ruined slag that used to be Tony’s desk.

“Let’s see if there’s anything in here still intact.”

Bucky nods and bends immediately to start peeling pieces of debris off the main blob, using the enhanced strength in his left hand to separate the fused pieces. Natasha takes them when he hands them over, turning them in her delicate hands. Bucky tries to focus on the physical task, using his strength without damaging the objects further, and after a while he can feel a lot of the anger slip away.

The next time he looks up, Clint has joined them and seems to be trying to match the scalded lumps with the list on the tablet. Bucky asks, “What was on there?”

“Various tools, all of which are non-volatile and he’s used them before, between five and six feet of insulated wiring, four dirty coffee mugs, a few pens and pencils, the fidget puzzles from his stocking last Christmas, the Asgardian Rubix sphere thing Thor sent him after New York the first time, engineering graph paper, one of Steve’s sketchpads, an unframed picture of the four of us, a framed one of Rhodey hugging Pepper and a granola bar that I’m sure he was about to eat as soon as Friday reminded him for the fifteenth time.”

Natasha looks at Clint thoughtfully while he rattles off the list. “I’m going to try to get in touch with Thor again.”

“Everyone else already on their way?”

Natasha quirks a little grin, “Vision and Wanda are cutting their trip a little short. And I don’t think Wanda is even going to be mouthy about it. Pepper’s plane should be landing in an hour. Rhodes went to get her.”

“Have you talked to Dr. Foster?”

“Voicemails for both her and Darcy.”

Bucky tunes their conversation out after that. Later there is some discussion about food, but he’s just noticed the granola bar. It had blown off the desk and was only singed on one side and for some reason the thing makes his stomach turn. He forces himself back to the debris, letting his focus be a small comfort. He’ll wait to fall apart until after he’s done everything he can, exhausted every action he can take for Tony. He’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, even more respect for the authors who can updated on a schedule! Thanks for everyone who waited for this update. It's been a very interesting experience working on a WIP. Hopefully a shorter break between chapters next time!
> 
> Two notes:  
> 1) I once lived in a place with no In N Out for a few years and it was awful. Those who aren't familiar with the restaurant or what an 8x8 is, I'm sorry.  
> 2) Yes, I do know that's not how explosions work. This is freaky comic book stuff, not a chunk of C-4. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Tony listens to a female voice welcome him home, because JARVIS is gone. Tony rides the elevator to his penthouse in the tower because the Malibu house, _his home_ , was destroyed. He crosses to the windows to look out at New York, whole once more, because it has been years of rebuilding that he’s just forgotten. They tell him how involved he was, how much he made it possible, but as far as he knows it never happened.

He hears Pepper step out of the elevator behind him. She joins him at the window a moment later, putting a gentle hand on his arm and staring at the city. His heart squeezes into a rock in his chest, because he _loves_ her, he wants to be and give everything to her, but they’re not together like that anymore. She has Happy and he has a pile of boyfriends and he _hates_ it because none of it is real to him.

Together or not, Pepper had come to his rescue, breezing into his hospital room between one test or scan and another. She was breathtaking, perfectly put together despite coming directly from the airport. Rhodey was half a step behind her, and then his world finally righted itself for a moment when they hugged him from each side. They held him for a long time, sensing that he needed their grounding. Tony was so grateful that he still had these two people in his life that he had to choke back tears. He pushed the feeling aside. Just because he was actually a little scared of what was happening to his _mind_ , shit, didn’t mean he needed to get all soggy about it. 

Rhodey stepped back first. “Hey weepy,” he teased, brushing some hair off Tony’s forehead, “still can’t take my eyes off you for a minute.”

“Sourpatch, why would you even want to look anywhere else?” Tony replied with an exaggerated kissy pout.

Pepper giggled at that and finally pulled back from the hug. “I’m going to go talk to your doctors, Tony. Do try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Pep. Come on,” Tony snagged her wrist in a light grip. “You just got here.”

“Tony. I’m going to go get an accurate assessment of your current status. God knows I’m not going to get it from you.” She stared him down, somehow both affectionate and firm, until he surrendered her hand and then she was back out the door again with a swish of her ponytail.

When Tony looked back, Rhodey was already across the room and greeting Rogers with a clap to the shoulder. They look comfortable together; Rhodey was clearly trying to keep Cap’s spirits up, smiling with satisfaction when he was able to coax a smile out of him. Rhodey’s regard for the man was clear, which leant some credence to Cap’s somewhat fantastical sounding story of the polyamorous quad Tony was apparently a part of. If the man was likely to mislead an amnesiac with that kind of story, Tony guessed Rhodey would probably not have grown so fond of Rogers in the years Tony didn’t remember.

Bruce cleared his throat quietly from Tony’s bedside. He hadn’t noticed the other man was trying to get him to….was that a Rorschach test? 

“Bruce, you are just fucking with me, and I am on to you now.”

“We’ve done every other recommended test and a few that are a bit spit-balled already. It might tell us something,” Bruce pasted on an exaggerated look of innocence and flipped the ink-splotched card on its head.

“You’re ridiculous. Who made you Avengers GP anyway? Can I get a specialist up in here? I’m probably paying enough for one.”

Something about that must have been really funny to Bruce, because he doubled over laughing, leaning on his elbows on Tony’s hospital bed. Tony enjoyed the sight of his friend so unguarded, and only just managed not to reach over and ruffle his hair.

“And on that note….I’m done. Let’s go, Rhodey” Tony said as he shoved the giggling nuclear physicist off his bed.

“What? TONY! You can’t!” Across the room, Rogers jumped to his feet. 

“Yes, I damn well can. I have some freaky ass amnesia, the reasons for which are a mystery for the ages, but I am not in pain and, funny thing, my legs work just fine. So. I’m going home.”

“Please, Tony. I know you don’t remember, but you promised us no more checking out AMA. Just give Bruce a few more hours.”

“You’re right, Capsicle. I don’t remember! Bruce has reached the limits of what he can do here, if he has time to be trolling me, or at least the limits of what _I will_ do here. And if I have to lay around for one more minute I am going to start trying to delete my brain myself just to get away from the crushing boredom!”

Rogers hadn’t had a comeback for that, and Tony had felt vindicated for all of a microsecond before he registered the look of devastation on the other man’s face. Okay, so that was probably out of line given the situation, but before Tony could scrape together some sort of apology, Cap was quietly excusing himself from the room, a dangerous wobble to his lips. He nearly ran into Pepper coming back into the room, the checkout paperwork already tucked under her arm. 

Whatever else had changed in the years Tony didn’t remember, at least Pepper remembered enough about who he was now (then?) to anticipate his actions. Bruce’s eyebrows were crawling up his forehead, giggles subsided, but he just shrugged when Tony looked to him for comment.

“We can shift things over to the lab in the tower easily enough, now that we know your body is unaffected. I still want to see what Wanda has to say about this.” He glanced at the doorway and frowned. “I should go make sure Steve’s okay to head back.”

In the penthouse, Tony gives himself a mental kick. He is being useless to himself right now, letting his mind replay what is essentially trivial nonsense. The tests hadn’t revealed anything, but that doesn’t matter. He can fix this. That’s what he does. This situation’s probably not nearly as dire as palladium poisoning anyway. And he has other brilliant minds in his corner now, they tell him, Doctor Bruce Banner only one of a team of extraordinary people.

“Tony,” Pepper said softly. She gave his arm a little squeeze.

“Pepper,” he whispered back. “What are we going to do?”

“You are going to get through this. Your team is here and they are going to help you figure this out. I am going to go get a statement written up for release to cover the next however long that you’ll be out of the public eye with this fresh abnormality and then try to work up a strategy for dealing with this.”

“Jesus, Pep, we just got home. You’re that desperate to get away from me?”

“I’m cleaning up your mess, Tony, just as I’ve always done. I’m also trying to run your company and you keep making that harder.” There’s an edge of annoyance creeping into her voice and her eyes.

“I’m not trying to make anything hard on you, Pepper, but I don’t remember what I did. I don’t remember anything that would make you so antagonistic!”

“I know you don’t, Tony. But I do.”

“Our breakup was that bad?”

Pepper sighs, the air whispering out of her nose as she meets Tony’s eyes. “The breakup was bad, and though we are okay now, we function within very specific boundaries. Boundaries which you, unknowingly, have blown to pieces. I am trying, Tony, because I remember this version of you, and you need me. But I need to get back behind my own lines soon, because I don’t want us going through those fights again.”

Tony swallows the lump that has formed in his throat. He tries not to notice that she has stepped back at some point, opening up space between them. There’s frustration bubbling just beneath his skin, so he grabs on to the anger to keep the hurt at bay. He doesn’t remember hurting Pepper, and he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to think about how he could have messed it up with the most important person in his life.

“I smell like a hospital.”

Pepper’s eyes flick over his face and he can see the moment that she decides to let him out of the conversation. “Ok, Tony. Take a shower. But please remember that Bruce decided you should try to stay awake as long as possible, to try to stall the progress of the memory loss. I’m going to send someone up here if we haven’t heard from you in half an hour.”

“I’m only losing memories when I sleep, Pepper. I can remember instructions from forty minutes ago,” Tony snips at her.

Pepper doesn’t rise to his bait, just squeezes his hand briefly and says calmly, “Just for that, I’m sending Natasha.” She’s back out the door before he can muster a comeback.

Apparently the new AI understands his preferences just fine; the shower, when he steps into it a few minutes later, is the perfect temperature and pressure. The shower in the penthouse is a huge white marble affair with small chips of blue glass set into swirling patters at about eye height. There is a tiled bench along one wall and several more shower heads installed throughout the enclosure. The broad shelf by his head holds a plethora of bath products, he recognizes his own preferred brands in among some rather hideous store-brand goop and a decent conditioner that promises less breakage for long, strong hair.

Tony really intends to shower quickly and get back to work, fixing his memory is probably the most urgent problem he’s faced since the palladium poisoning, at least that he can remember, but some vague curiosity about his purported boyfriends has him going through the assembled bottles. He picks up a couple and snaps the lid on the first, leaning in to smell the liquid. He’s hardly inhaled when a wave of dizziness sweeps over him. The slick floor tiles try to go out from under him and he barely makes it to the bench seat without falling. Right at the edge of his mind, he has the impression of a grinning Clint Barton wiping suds on Tony’s nose while someone else holds him from behind before the world starts to grey out. Tony realizes he is crying. The tears are rushing down his face and it feels like his chest has been hollowed out again, a twisting ache of loneliness. The intensity of the feeling is alarming. He tries to shout it down inside his head while the world outside keeps swaying. He tells himself that this is a completely illogical sense of loss, that he has to be projecting, there is no way that he should be mourning two men he has barely shared a meal with and a third he hasn’t even met.

There is a clatter and the water temperature drops. It’s enough for him to come back to himself. He’s dropped the shampoo bottles, and his AI is speaking with increasingly volume every word.

“Boss? Mr. Stark? You have now been unresponsive for two minutes. I am initiating emergency alert.”

“Stop. I’m fine,” Tony forces the words out.

“I recommend updating Dr. Banner on your condition. Do you want me to notify him to come to the penthouse?”

“No. No, um, Friday, I’ll talk to Bruce. Just let me get dressed. He doesn’t need to see this.” Tony gestures vaguely at himself.

The water abruptly shuts off. Tony guesses that means he’s done with getting washed then.

It’s difficult to stand up and towel off. It’s like trying to move in the original Iron Man; each limb is heavy, slow to respond. He shuffles out into the bedroom and pauses at the side of a stupidly large bed. He’s still crying and he thinks he should be embarrassed by that, that he should stop crying over this emotionally incomprehensible situation and _do something_ about it. If there was anything to cry about it would be losing Pepper. Hell, even pity crying over his potentially deteriorating condition makes more sense than this.

He watches his hand reach out and smooth across the closest pillow. It doesn’t feel like it’s attached to him anymore. The world is going fuzzy. He should probably lie down for a moment until the dizziness passes. That makes sense. He slips down onto the bed and pulls himself into the center. He thinks he hears a lady shouting, something about an emergency, but it’s fading quickly. 

Tony feels like there was something he was supposed to find. He reaches out groping fingers along the soft sheets, but can’t manage to open his eyes. On the very edge of consciousness, his body reminds him of the feeling of heavily muscled arms around his shoulders, warmth pressed along his back and soft hair between his fingers, but his breathing has evened out and he can’t bring himself to search anymore. Maybe after a little rest…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this fic. My apologies for the long wait and the short chapter. I mostly blame the Olympics swallowing my free time last month. I went back and forth on posting this part by itself, and I decided that putting something up would be better than waiting even longer on the next part I have planned. Said next part should include more Natasha and even some progress on figuring out what's happened to Tony. Yay!
> 
> If you are interested in Ironfalcon (Tony Stark/Sam Wilson), feel free to check out the other thing that delayed this chapter, [Screw Gravity, I've fallen in love.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7483278), which wouldn't leave me alone until it was written.
> 
> Thanks again for all your support!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is what I would consider a small warning on this chapter (beyond the overall rating, which has gone up to mature), please see the end notes if you need to be careful about your fic. Minor spoiler.

Clint and Steve are sitting with Tony this time when Natasha and Pepper enter the bedroom. Clint is gently running his hands through Tony’s hair. Steve is sitting behind Clint with his arms around the other man’s waist and his face hidden in between his shoulder blades. Clint leans in to place a few soft kisses to Tony’s face and Steve leans with him, keeping the contact between them.

Pepper excuses herself back to the bar for drinks with a quiet word. Natasha pads over to the trio on the bed, and Steve pulls himself off of Clint’s back long enough to drag her in between them for a hug. Steve’s face is pinched with worry and she can feel that Clint’s breathing is very carefully even where their backs are pressed together. She tucks her head under Steve’s chin and sighs a long breath. “I have a contact. It’s a long shot, but at this point I want to try. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Belfast?” Clint asks.

“Yes.”

Steve’s concerned frown grows more pronounced and Natasha can tell he wants to press her for more details, but his eyes stray to Tony’s still form and the sight is enough for him to swallow any protests he might have had. Clint grunts and turns around to poke at her side. “I’m going with you.”

“Are you?” she replies, cool as she can play it.

He hooks his chin over her shoulder and digs it into a nerve cluster. She twitches slightly, which is as good as yelling for them. Steve flicks Clint’s forehead and he retreats.

“Where’s Bucky?” Natasha asks.

It’s Steve’s turn to twitch and he drops his head. “Gym.”

“We couldn’t convince him to come sit with us. It’s too hard for him to see Tony like this,” Clint adds.

“Well, why don’t you guys go to him? Get him to eat some fruit or something.”

Steve looks conflicted. “Someone should be here when he wakes up.”

“I can stay. Maybe Pepper. We’ll keep you in the loop. Besides, if the trend continues, he won’t know to miss you when he wakes up. He’ll be okay in the short term, but Bucky needs you right now. And Clint needs to rest up, if he thinks I’m gonna let him pilot the quinjet.” 

“I can stay for a little while before it’s crucial for me to be back in the office.” Pepper adds from the door, two martinis in her hands and tear tracks drying on her cheeks. Natasha gets one more squeeze from Steve before she stands and goes to start clearing the clutter of four busy men off the small table and chairs in the side of the master suite. She pretends to be engrossed in stacking sketchbooks and engineering paper and coffee mugs rather than watch Steve earnestly promise Tony that he’ll be okay and press kisses to the hand he’s gripping tight between both of his own. Clint doesn’t say anything, but bends down to press his forehead against Tony’s and cup his hands around his boyfriend’s slack face.

The two men slip out and Natasha and Pepper settle in at the table. Natasha can see the bed from her perch, can watch Tony sleeping the unnaturally deep sleep he has been trapped in since the explosion in the lab a few days ago. She takes a small sip of the martini Pepper passes to her. Pepper’s own drink is nearly gone.

“Help me with something?” Natasha asks.

“What’s that?”

Natasha holds up a tablet she’d grabbed off the table. “I’m going to make Tony a cheat sheet. Basic timeline, current relationships, Iron Man’s varied exploits…”

It takes a moment, but Pepper’s eyes slowly lose their defeated, melancholy look. “Put everything we know so far about his condition, too. His medical scans, our theories. He’ll probably tear them apart, but it gives him a starting point. Maybe we can get him invested in solving this.” By the time she finishes her sentence and her martini, Pepper is ignited. She pulls another tablet towards her and asks Friday to clone a basic menu framework to both of their devices.

“Maybe.” Natasha comments neutrally. Pepper is so ready to believe that Tony will, at some point, figure this out. Pull out the big win as he has done so many times before. Nat’s a little more cautious. A little too pessimistic. But, she does think that this effort will help Tony, whatever state he wakes up in. Assuming he does wake up again.

She smothers that thought. That kind of thinking is unproductive and they can’t afford that.

They work in silence for a while, Natasha breaking it every so often with suggestions for Friday as the AI constructs a timeline interface. She watches Pepper out of the corner of her eye as the other woman’s initial enthusiasm shifts back to concern. Pepper becomes more and more agitated, but Natasha knows when to keep her silence.

“God, Natasha,” she finally bursts out. “He was looking at me like he used to, like I was perfect and could fix all his problems. I was not ready to deal with that and I know I just hurt him being here.”

“Well, if that helps, he probably won’t remember it when he wakes up,” Natasha replies wryly.

Pepper sits back in her chair, surprise flickering over her features. “Well, that’s true.”

“Plus, this thing is much better than it would have been without your help.” Natasha holds up the tablet they are programming for Tony. “You’re doing more than most would expect from an ex.” 

Pepper hums a low sound of agreement, and then pulls up a projection of her with her hand in Tony’s chest from when he made her help install the new arc reactor. She makes a tossing motion and it flies over to Natasha’s tablet. Pepper smirks, “I’m not letting him forget that moment, he owes me forever.”

Natasha let a small laugh escape her at that. She hasn’t laughed much in the last few days. Watching her good friend deteriorate before her eyes has been stressful and frustrating and there isn’t even an enemy for her to interrogate. Yet. She thinks of her upcoming mission with a touch of eagerness. She knows that it is likely a to be a futile effort; it’s not likely that her target will actually have any useful intel, but just getting out and doing something proactive for Tony will help both her and Clint. She can see how badly the waiting is getting to him. Clint is phenomenally patient on a stake-out with a clear objective, but put someone he cares about on the line without a path forward and he starts to shut down. 

She dismisses the distracting thoughts and busies herself in the code for the timeline program once more.

Finally, Pepper puts down her tablet and stretches. The pops her spine gives at the motion sound satisfying. Natasha rolls her head on her shoulders, suddenly reminded how stiff she’s grown as they worked. Pepper sighs and says, “I’m going to see about a night cap and turning in. I’m still on India time and it’s…I don’t even know what time my body thinks it is now.”

“Okay. I’m going to stay here until he wakes up. I’ll have this finished up soon, it should help him adjust, whatever timeframe he finds himself in.”

Natasha gets a little lost in her project once Pepper leaves, and it isn’t until she hears a croaky voice ask, “Natalie? You changed your hair?” that she comes back to herself with an (entirely suppressed) internal jolt. Instinctually, she shrugs on the Natalie Rushman persona, stiffening her spine and her face, letting cool and professional take over relaxed in a heartbeat.

“Welcome back, Mr. Stark.”

“Wha’ happened?”

“There was an explosion in the lab. You have been suffering from an unusual form of progressive amnesia.”

Tony sucks in a gasp at her statement, looking shocked, but a half second later, his eye widen even further and he starts clawing at his T-shirt covered chest. Nat curses, and leaps up to stop him, but he has already pulled the garment aside and seen his reconstructed chest. His face grows very pale and for a moment Natasha is sure he is going to faint, his eyes even roll back in his head a little bit, but then his face flushes and he lunges at her. “Who did this to me?!?” he screams and swings at her wildly.

She pins him easily to the bed. Tony is hyperventilating, tears leaking out of his eyes as he works himself into a full panic. Natasha bends over him, running her nose along his jawline up to his ear. She feels a very small twinge of guilt at playing a friend, and at the thought of Steve’s face if he saw this, but it passes quickly when her play pays off. Tony is stunned at her move, stilling and holding his breath. She drops her voice to a husky rumble and whispers, “Relax, Mr. Stark,” letting her breath ghost just on the outside of his ear as she squeezes his wrists where they are pinned at his sides. Tony responds beautifully, the fight draining out of his body. He turns his face, almost imperceptibly, into hers.

“The shrapnel is gone, the palladium is gone, you’re okay,” she soothes. “I can show you.” She pulls back to check his face. The color is returning to it. She waits until he meets her eyes and then raises her eyebrows in question.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Tony mutters. “I’ll be good.”

Tony is surprisingly biddable as Natasha tugs him to his feet and over to the table. A glance at his face shows weary resignation. 

“You’re taking this rather well considering you were ready to knock me down a minute ago.”

“Knee-jerk reaction. It’s not worth the effort, really. This is hardly the weirdest miraculous ‘You’re cured!’ dream I’ve had lately. Apparently my subconscious thinks that losing my mind is a better deal than being poisoned by the device keeping me alive.”

“Of course you would have lucid dreams.”

“Often.”

“How can I prove that you aren’t dreaming?”

Tony cracks a grin at that, almost a leer. “I should think that was obvious, Ms. Rushman. You’ll have to pinch me.”

Leaving that comment aside entirely, Natasha picks up the tablet and finds her own tab. “My name is Natasha Romanov.”

She sets the tablet down in front of him with a little twinge of regret that she can’t hand it to him, he’s forgotten that trust now. Natasha waits for him to pick it up before she turns and heads out to Tony’s personal kitchen. When she gets back with a banana muffin and one of his customarily gigantic mugs of coffee he is already completely engrossed in the information. 

Natasha is somewhat tired, but she decides to keep him company while he goes through the timeline she compiled for him. She can sleep on the quinjet, she rationalizes, and uses the second tablet to review the latest intel on her mark. Tony reads rapidly through the reports and pictures, occasionally playing a video clip she included for veracity. It’s actually a very peaceful way to spend the early quiet hours of the morning, sharing coffee with Tony while his eyes dart over the mix of schematics, news articles and clips. Sometimes he’ll murmur a question and then look surprised when Natasha answers him, having forgotten she is there in the room with him. There is something comfortable between them that surprises her a little, given the situation. It’s as if Tony instinctually still knows who they are to each other when he’s not thinking about it. The Tony Stark who called her Natalie would not have sat here in their quiet, coffee-scented haven for long.

Natasha texts Tony’s boyfriends an update, but says she’s got it handled for now. Bucky is the only one who responds, Clint and Steve have gone to bed. She promises him another update once Tony has finished reading through the tablet. With her upcoming mission and the precariousness of Tony’s situation, she wants to enjoy what may be the last peaceful moments she has with her friend. Even if he isn’t all here anymore. Nat’s used to that.

She watches Tony go through the sections on the Avengers, his personal life including his current boyfriends, his current and former relationships with Pepper, and the explanation of the removal of the arc reactor. He skims through the sections on Afghanistan, Obadiah Stane’s betrayal and his parent’s deaths, but has some suggestions on additions to Rhodey’s section which are delivered with a shit-eating grin. Natasha agrees readily. 

Tony claps his hands together once and then brings them up to run through his hair. “Okay, I believe you. This is dragging along for a lucid dream, and no one has gotten naked yet. So, I don’t have JARVIS because he grew up and became a real boy, and I don’t have Pepper because I didn’t. But, apparently I have another scary red head in my corner,” he makes finger guns at Natasha, “and also three insanely hot boyfriends.” Tony chuckles to himself. “Yeah, that one is still failing to compute.”

“You do still have Pepper, Tony. Just because she’s not your girlfriend or PA doesn’t mean she’s not here for you. Actually, almost everyone you’ve met who isn’t a reporter or Senator is either in your corner or in a jail cell, so you’re doing pretty well for yourself,” Natasha replies. Then she thinks of Wanda and repeats, “Almost everyone.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, but his frown is thoughtful. After a moment, he evidently decides to believe her, or at least not to argue with her, and goes back to the tablet. 

Natasha eventually points him towards the section detailing his current condition. The very first page is a strongly worded warning against falling asleep. He laughs lowly, “I thought you were just buttering me up with the constant coffee refills.”

“Why would you expect me to have only one reason for any given thing that I do?” Natasha replies with a wink.

His smile lingers for a moment, but it fades as he swipes through more of the various test results from SHIELD medical and Bruce’s assessment notes. Natasha reminds herself to get him to be proactive about his condition. It’s not foolproof, but she’s developed a methodology to manage a sad or frustrated Tony Stark. First, give him all available data. Second, give him the tools he needs. Third, enjoy the show. Sometimes, fourth, stay low and angle away from the blast point when something explodes.

On the subject of explosions, “Tony, could you take a look at what we think started all this?” Nat asks. “Maybe seeing it will help jog something loose up there.”

He nods and Friday projects the lab footage of Tony repulsoring his desk and the resulting explosion. Tony obligingly watches the footage several times from different angles and asks what he was working on and what he might have fired on. They discuss what he was working on in the lab. Natasha does her best not to let him tangent into a tech discussion with Friday. There is no instant lightbulb moment.

Natasha kicks the tiny disappointed part of her that hoped it would be that simple. Foolishness. Hope is insidious. 

“We’ve seen sophisticated mental manipulation before and it almost always involves Asgardians,” Natasha mentions. “Bruce is trying to contact Thor, but it is never predictable. If this is intentional, if this is an attack on Iron Man, that will be our best path forward.”

“I’m friends with Bruce Banner,” Tony sighs, “I’m almost unworthy. I mean, I am really, totally worthy, but it’s a close thing. His work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled.”

Natasha giggles, a surprised slip of sound. She schools her expression back into a pensive frown, but she lets Tony catch her lips twitching in amusement. “Maybe we need to bring in Dr. Strange.”

“Who’s that? What does he do? She?”

“He. According to SHIELD records, Dr. Strange was a very highly regarded neurosurgeon.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds good. Wait, wait wait. Was? What does he do now?”

“Magic.”

“No such thing.”

“I’m afraid there is.”

“Nope.” Tony glares at her, his expression perfectly disgusted. Natasha fights down a grin. Clearly Tony’s aversion to magic stems from before he’d ever encountered the real deal.

“He’s not all bad. You gave him a high-five once.”

Tony gives an exaggerated shudder, takes a deep, steadying, I-am-going-to-lay-down-the-truth-here breath and proclaims, “Listen, I don’t have a giant electromagnet in my chest, I am not currently dying, at least not right at this moment, and I have three incredibly hot boyfriends. I want to meet them. Now.”

Oh, the drama. Natasha wants to poke him with something sharp. In a fond way.

Instead she asks, “Don’t you want to fix this?”

His entire posture falls, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I have apparently been fixing things for years and yet here I am in danger again, only this time, I can’t use my genius brain because it’s the thing going on me. I am tired, Nat,” Tony said, and you didn’t have to have Natasha’s skill at reading people to hear the exhaustion seeping into his voice to prove it. “I have emotional whiplash. I can’t rest, I can’t help. What am I supposed to do?” His voice trails off in a whisper, and Natasha ruthlessly forces herself to keep a lid on the frustration and helplessness that surges in her at the hopeless resignation in his voice. 

He fiddles with the tablet, pulling up the last tab in the relationship column. The picture of Tony with Steve, Clint and Bucky fills the screen. “I want to go see what this feels like, because I literally can’t remember a time when I would have looked at a single person like this, let alone three.”

Natasha’s throat is suspiciously tight. She nods and says, “There is something that you can do.” 

Tony perks up. “Yeah?”

Natasha continues, “Steve is with Clint, prepping for our early mission tomorrow morning. I would interrupt them, but it’s of the utmost urgency.” 

“Off to save the world?” Tony asks. He schools the disappointment from his face, but Natasha sees it. 

“In a way. Just the one person, really, but he’s very important to us.”

Tony doesn’t say anything to that, but he smiles one of his most genuine smiles for her.

“I know of a few less than ethical scientists who have some experience with forced memory loss and a very healthy fear of the Black Widow,” Natasha lets a little ruthlessness bleed into her smile and voice now. “Tracking them down has become a priority, they might have answers for us. Clint is coming with me.”

Her smile softens as she finishes, “But I know that Bucky’s not going to be able to rest right now, and he’s probably wearing a trench in the floor with his worried pacing by now. You should go see him.”

He’s off like a shot at that, heading for the elevator. He stops a few feet from the doors, whirling back to press a kiss to her cheek. She watches him leave, promising herself that this won’t be the last time she sees her friend. She will find something to help him.

The big problem with being such a natural liar is that it’s nearly impossible to believe yourself.

*****************

Tony stares at the inside of the elevator doors and thinks he should probably be more concerned by the fact that he is apparently losing his mind. Either he really does have the strangest form of amnesia he’s ever heard of, or the palladium has made it to his brain and this is all some hallucination his poisoned mind is throwing out as he dies. Tony looks down at the tablet in his hands. The picture of him and his boyfriends is still on the screen. He was literally surrounded by love, he can see it in the smiles of the men around him, read it in the softness in his own eyes as he looked up at Steve Rogers. Steve has his eyebrows raised, looking amused and incredulous and fond back at Tony. Bucky is on Steve’s other side, his eyes barely open with his head tipped against Steve’s shoulder, his hands curled around Steve’s bicep. Clint frames Tony at the other end of the picture, his mouth is caught mid-laugh and he is casually resting his elbow up on Tony’s shoulder.

If this is how it’s going to be, he’s damn well going to enjoy it. He was in the middle of dying and pushing away everyone close to him. Tony guesses he might still be dying, but at least he isn’t capable of keeping it a secret even if he wanted to this time. Waking up to this life without that burden has been a bit of a second chance, and he’ll be glad of it for however long he gets to have it.

Plus, he can actually breathe right now. As far as miraculous relieving of burdens goes, getting the weight of his penance off his chest, literally, is pretty much at the top of the list.

When the elevator reaches the main common floor and Tony steps out he immediately feels some of the tension that he was carrying melt off his shoulders. This space feels comfortable. There is a giant TV hanging on one wall, with a collection of cozy looking couches, recliners and bean bag chairs arranged in front of it. He can see a large dining room table off to the other side and he’s guessing the bit of tiled room he can just make out from the elevator door is a kitchen. He takes a few steps into the room and the doors whish shut behind him. The carpet is plush under his feet and the whole area feels soft and lived in.

There’s also a gorgeous brunette shuffling awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Tony knows from Natasha’s briefing that this is Bucky, an Avenger, formerly a brainwashed assassin, originally a sniper in World War II, and one of his three boyfriends. He supposes that this is what an average person would feel like if they woke up having won several lotteries they didn’t even buy tickets for. Tony lets himself appreciate the sight for a moment. The pictures on the tablet do not do justice to the way this guy is built, holy shit. Tony’s eyes travel up thickly muscled thighs and a well-defined torso hugged by a soft white Henley. Bucky has his shoulders hunched in on himself, but that doesn’t hide their broad strength at all. His face is handsome and covered in stubble and his long hair is soft-looking, framing his face. His eyes are agonized when Tony meets them. Bucky is hurting, and intellectually Tony knows that he is hurting over what’s happening to _him_ , but it’s hard to imagine himself as the cause of so much emotion. Usually Tony doesn’t move people much beyond the anger-exasperation spectrum. He knows he should feel bad, but the look in those eyes is clearly love and it takes Bucky from hot to downright breathtaking. Tony actually feels his knees weaken. He sways just slightly and suddenly Bucky is there with his hands bracing Tony’s forearms to steady him. Tony stares at the metal hand and tries not to drool on himself.

“Easy, Tony. Stay with me.”

Tony’s glad Bucky hasn’t stepped back yet, because the low rasp of Bucky’s voice so close to his ear sends a punch of lust low in Tony’s gut. He’s actually going to swoon here.

“C’mere.” Bucky leads Tony over to the main couch and Tony gratefully takes a seat. The furniture is just as comfortable as it looks and Tony lets out a small sigh as his weight settles. Bucky crouches down in front of him and flicks those worried eyes over Tony’s face.

“I’m fine,” Tony says, but his voice comes out a little strained.

Bucky reaches out a hand and very lightly brushes his fingers down Tony’s cheek. Tony utterly fails to suppress his shiver at the contact. Bucky notices his reaction and he tips his head as a beautiful smile spreads across his face. Tony’s breath hitches at the sight. Maybe he’s been primed for this reaction by the information on the tablet or maybe he’s hallucinating his perfect dream guy while dying, but Tony knows, suddenly, that he could love this man. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, Tony,” Bucky says as he slowly stands up. He holds Tony’s eyes for a minute more before bending down to brush a kiss on Tony’s forehead.

Tony laughs, asks, “You doing anything tonight, Handsome?”

They decide to watch the Hobbit movies, since Tony’s forgotten them. Bucky bustles about and gets him set up with pillows and a giant mug of coffee while popping sounds from the kitchen indicate popcorn is imminent. 

Bucky comes back out to the couch with a large bowl filled with hot popcorn and snugs into Tony’s side. The popcorn smells buttery and a tiny bit burnt. He is warm and happy. The Hobbit music is playing in the background. Tony is aware of each of these things, aware of what is actually around him, but suddenly he is dizzy, so dizzy, and it’s Steve Rogers on the couch with him. Tony remembers, with a jolt that goes through his stomach like a bullet, the way that Steve tasted, like butter, like sunshine, when he leaned down to kiss Tony, so slow and sweet.

Tony’s heart is pounding in his chest. His face is wet with either sweat or tears and Bucky is sitting next to him, panic in his eye. He’s repeating Tony’s name, voice growing progressively louder and more concerned.

Tony has to clear his throat twice before he can speak to reassure Bucky that he’s alright. 

“What happened?” Bucky demands.

“I – I’m sorry. I think I remembered something? Steve was here, he kissed me on the couch when we watched this movie.”

Bucky’s eyes are huge in his face and his voice has gone from panic to hope when he says, “Yeah, you did. It was just the two of you at that point. Do – do you remember anything else?”

Tony shakes his head and then he’s crying. He buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder and sobs out his worries that he won’t ever have that again, that he won’t ever be himself again. Bucky holds him, runs a hand through his hair and promises Tony that it won’t come to that, that they will figure it out.

Eventually, Tony calms. Bucky keeps him close, keeps finger combing his hair and it is so soothing. Bucky whispers, voice low and raw, about how it felt to have only snatches of memory of Steve. “And, it was just utter shit, not being able to remember, to know what was real and what was nightmare, you know? And you were so amazing, Tony, you were one of my best friends. From one minute to the next you could ground me, remind me when I was.” Bucky’s voice breaks a little at the end, and he squeezes Tony closer with a sigh.

“Bucky, I’m sorry. You don’t have to sit here and do this to yourself. I can see it’s hurting you to be around me when I’m…like this. Not myself. I’m definitely not the Tony you’re describing, the one you clearly love. I promise, I won’t go to sleep if you need to get away from me for a while.”

“Tony. There’s nowhere else in the world I would rather be, sweetheart.”

“What about with Steve and Clint? You guys should be together right now.”

“They are together. Steve’s makin’ sure Clint really does get some rest before the mission. We’ll see him once morning rolls around. Besides, I can’t leave you like this Tony. Please don’t ask me to.”

Tony considers him for a long moment, but he nods, and Bucky starts the movie again. Tony tries to get into the movie, but even Thorin’s broody glory doesn’t provide anywhere near enough distraction from the thoughts whirling in his head. He reaches over to the remote and turns the volume way down.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I tested the Iron Man boots?”

Bucky smiles, and it is such a sweet little smile Tony’s heart trips for a moment. He scoots closer to Tony, pressing their thighs together. “Yes, but you should definitely tell me again.”

They end up talking for a few hours instead of watching the movie. Bucky keeps Tony in coffee, tells him some of the funnier Howling Commandos stories and Tony tries so hard to stay awake, to stay in this little bubble where he can pretend he isn’t losing his mind. At one point, they end up outside; the biting cold of the wind at this altitude gives him a few more minutes of lucidity. 

All too soon, however, it’s too much to fight against anymore. The pull of sleep is weighing him down like an anchor and it becomes obvious that he is going to fall. 

He is shivering and still trying to swallow sips of the coffee when Bucky’s hands gently take the mug away from him. He blinks for a moment, but it must have been longer because he’s been carried back inside and into the elevator. Bucky’s breathing is unsteady and Tony knows it can’t be from the exertion, his weight is inconsequential for a super soldier. Tony forces his eyes up to Bucky’s face and sees that the man is crying as he carries Tony to bed. 

They are both crying at this point.

“I don’t want to forget again, Bucky.” Tony’s voice is small and it seems to take so much effort to speak at all.

“I know, doll, I’m sorry, so sorry, Tony.”

“Please stay with me. Don’t leave me here alone.” Tony is still with it enough to see the hurt crash across Bucky’s face like he’s just taken a knife to the gut. 

Tony knows that he’s run out of time. He can’t fight the sleep pulling him down any longer. He tugs Bucky into the bed by his metal arm. He’s dizzy, the world is swirling around him now, but it slows a bit when strong fingers work into his hair, rubbing at his scalp. He slips away to a soft voice whispering about love in his ear.

*************

Bucky comes awake in a slow gentle pull. There’s a vague voice in the back of his head telling him something is wrong, but Tony is warm and pressed against his right side with his face mashed into Bucky’s shoulder. He is mouthing sleepy kisses into the skin there, so Bucky thinks the voice should kindly just fuck off. He is still sleep muzzy, but he knows in his bones that if Tony’s cuddly in the morning, there’s clearly nothing immediately wrong in the world. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s had Tony like this, even though it isn’t really that rare since both Clint and Steve like to jog in the mornings. He lets himself wallow in the feeling of relief and turns to nuzzle at Tony’s fluffy bed hair.

“You awake?” Tony whispers.

“Mmmhmmm,” Bucky hums in reply. He’s not up for words just yet.

“Good,” Tony breathes into the shell of his ear. “Then I’m going to go ahead with this, okay?”

His fingers slip under Bucky’s sleep pants and trail down his cock. Bucky is already hard and leaking. “Oh, yeah, baby.” 

Tony sighs contentedly and starts up a familiar stroking rhythm. His callouses drag a bit on the sensitive skin and Bucky can’t help the gasp that drops out of him, can’t help the way his metal hand twists in the sheets and his hips jerk up to meet Tony. Tony, who is grinding into Bucky’s leg and moaning. “Yes, yes, oh my god your _thighs_. How is this thing even real?” He gives another hard thrust and Bucky grabs onto Tony’s ass almost desperately with his right hand, keeping their bodies cinched tight together. Tony keeps the pressure on both of them and his hand speeds up even as his hips start to lose their rhythm.

“So close, Tony, god.”

Tony chuckles, dark and rich, before biting down on Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s orgasm hits him like a punch from Natasha, short and sharp with reality only bleeding back in slowly in the aftermath. Tony is licking at the bite mark and rambling happily, still held tight to Bucky’s body. Bucky feels a huge grin split his face. He loves when Tony gets hyper after a morning orgasm. Some of his favorite days have started out this way. He tunes in to the babble.

“I mean, I don’t remember this bedroom and I’m feeling dizzy, so it must have been a good party.”

There’s a split second of confusion, and then Bucky’s grin dies when he remembers. The desperate fear Tony couldn’t keep out of his eyes, the way his voice shook when he asked Bucky not to leave him alone. Even after Tony had fallen into that all-encompassing sleep, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to put any space between them, holding his boyfriend and crying quietly until sleep took him as well.

And now Tony’s woken up again. Which means that to the man he loves he is just a guy Tony thinks he went home with last night. Tony doesn’t know who he is. _Tony doesn’t know who he is._ Bucky groans, almost in tears again.

Tony’s head pops up to meet Bucky’s eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Steve is gonna kill me.”

“Steve? Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. He feels like such a jerk right now, having sex with an amnesiac is really poor form. 

Tony wriggles out from under Bucky’s arm, his happy babble from before replaced with something angrier, accusing. “Not cool, man. I know everyone thinks that Tony Stark will do just about anyone and anything, but I don’t go for infidelity. I don’t care how high I was last night, if you’d have mentioned a boyfriend, I would never have gotten in this bed.” He stumbles his way out of the bed and throws on a sweater from the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Wait, no, Tony! That’s not how it is! Please, please, wait.” Bucky’s pleas are met with another glare.

“No.”

“Tony, here, let me just find the tablet for you, you’ll understand better after you have it.” Bucky casts a quick glance around, but doesn’t see the computer nearby. 

Tony stills, frozen in place for an instant before he sucks in a sharp breath. “Tablet?” he whispers lowly. “Did you drug me?”

His sentence only takes a moment to sink in, but Bucky is too horrified to form words at that implication for several heartbeats. Tony’s face is turning red, his eyes filling with fury. “Is that why I can’t remember how I got here?” he growls. Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he can’t speak, his throat feels like it has completely sealed shut.

“Answer me!” Tony shouts.

Bucky scrambles to think of how to set this right, but before he can come up with an explanation, the bedroom door opens and Steve walks in, wearing his SHIELD tac gear along with what Tony used to call his Sexy McFrown face. 

Tony’s jaw actually drops when he sees Steve. “Captain America,” he whispers, sounding awed.

The three of them are frozen for a minute. Bucky can see Steve take in the tableau they present with Bucky still in the rumpled bed and Tony half-dressed, clearly about to bolt. Steve shoots Bucky a look promising that they will have words later and, using his calm talking-to-civilians voice, says, “Tony. I need you to come with me now.”

Bucky’s not sure what he was expecting, but Tony breaking into hysterical giggling wasn’t it. 

“Tony…Tony, are you okay?” Bucky asks.

“Steve, your boyfriend, is Steve Rogers, Captain America?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers, hesitant. 

“Then, you, my extremely attractive friend,” Tony points at Bucky with finger guns, “are definitely _part_ of this hallucination and therefore probably not responsible for it. Plus, I don’t actually feel drugged, so, my money is on brained myself in the lab again and haven’t come to yet.” He bends down to grab more clothing from the pile by the bed.

Bucky is morbidly curious how old Tony is in his mind right now, and how many times he’s suffered head trauma at this point, but Steve is glaring disapprovingly so Bucky keeps it to himself.

“Has he read the tablet?” Steve asks Bucky.

Bucky shakes his head, “We just got up, I haven’t found it yet.”

“Well, we’ll get to it in a bit. Wanda and Vision are back. I want her to look at him.” Steve turns to Tony. “Can you come with me, please, Tony?”

Tony, who had been in the process of buttoning up his pants, is standing off to the side staring at his hands. He jerks his gaze up when Steve addresses him. “Yeah, sure, Captain, whatever you say.” He trails off, and then mumbles, “I have old man hands.”

Steve’s face falls from stern to hurt at that. Bucky knows Steve has a particular soft spot for Tony’s hands, how they are simultaneously graceful and worn. Steve swallows tightly and turns to head back to the common floor. Tony zips his fly and trails along in Steve’s wake, a bemused expression on his face.

Bucky makes himself take a huge breath and hold it for a ten count before letting it out slowly. That was fairly awful but it could have ended worse. He cleans himself up, gets dressed, and spends a few minutes searching before he finds the tablet computer with Tony’s life history where it had slipped down the back of the bedside table.

He grabs it and heads up to the common floor himself. Tony’s only been out of his sight for a few minutes, but the anxiety over his condition is already rising up to levels he can barely stand. He gives in to his need to _be there_ by sprinting up the stairs instead of waiting for Friday to call the elevator. 

When he makes it to the corner of the living room the others are gathered in, it’s just in time to hear Tony complaining to Steve. “What? If I’m understanding you right, you want her to play nurse and figure out something wrong with my head. There’s a robot over there who is clearly my subconscious reaction to JARVIS trying to get me to wake up back in the lab where I hit my head. It sounds just like him, Cap, it’s pretty damn obvious. So, I am going to enjoy my hallucinated sexy nurse,” he winks at Wanda, “and you are going to give me another one of your frowns and keep representing my failure to live up to my father’s expectations, you’re doing it so very well. The disapproval is just radiating off you.”

“What’s happening?” Bucky asks Steve as he approaches the little group.

“He hit on Wanda and we are trying to get him to stop before she throws him out the window.”

“Heeeeeey!” Tony catches sight of Bucky. “It’s my very own symbolic bad boy representing…hmmmm…I’m guessing my bisexuality being seen as a rebellious phase by, oh, everyone? Ooh, and you come with your own robot arm. Of course you do. Best concussion ever.”

Bucky thinks he can work with that. He lets his voice go gravely and says, “In that case, gorgeous, why don’t you come sit down with me while Wanda does her job? I’ll keep you company.” He lightly snags the sleeve of Tony’s sweatshirt with his metal fingers and tugs Tony towards the nearest couch.

“Mmmm, gonna hold my hand?” Tony purrs as he slots into Bucky’s lap.

“Whatever you need, beautiful.” It’s a little disorienting, how Tony has been reacting to each phase of this progressive memory loss, and this time with his hallucination hypothesis is especially so, but he’d have to be dead to turn down a lap full of Tony. Bucky snakes his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and pulls him back against his chest. He nods to Wanda. She looks to Steve first.

“Please, Wanda,” Steve says, “we need to know what’s going on in that genius brain of his. Right now we are working with very little information. Medical science isn’t cutting it.”

Wanda gives a small eye roll, but the lack of biting commentary is practically enthusiasm for her where Tony is concerned. She approaches Tony with her hands already glowing red. Tony keeps his flirty smirk on his face, but Bucky can feel his body tense with nerves. Bucky presses a kiss to his shoulder and then Wanda is there, her hands level with Tony’s temples. His eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a surprised grunt. Bucky tightens his hold on Tony. 

“There is a presence,” Wanda hums. “It is…”

Steve is suddenly at their side, kneeling on the couch with his focus intent on where Wanda is almost touching Tony. “It’s an attack?” he asks, voice crisp with battle-readiness.

“No…”

There is a pause while they wait for her to continue. Wanda’s eyes close and her fingers twitch. Bucky is coiled so tightly he thinks he would be shaking the answers out of her if he wasn’t underneath Tony.

“Wanda.” Steve is visibly reigning in his concern, but it’s not going to last much longer.

“It’s not malicious. It’s just…hungry…” Vision is at Wanda’s side a second later, slipping an arm around her waist while she leans into his side for support. She takes two breaths and then meets Steve’s eyes. “It’s not attacking. It’s not thinking or planning. It’s simple, like an animal. And it is eating his mind.” She hisses and pulls her hands away. 

Tony’s body goes boneless. His head drops back against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s stomach falls to his feet and it feels like someone reading the code words again, the same helpless terror. Tony’s asleep.

Steve is shouting denials, pleas, Tony’s name, but they are all equally futile. Bucky tightens his arms around Tony’s waist, trying desperately to hold on, even as Tony slips further away from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a sex scene which includes Tony, so keep that in mind if an altered mental state like Tony's comic book amnesia would be a consent issue for you. Tony instigates sex with someone he has received consent from, but he doesn't know that he's missing anything. Please be mindful.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter - it was my favorite to write so far. Natasha is strangely nice to write, I hadn't tried that before this work. Also, Tony and Bucky did the thing where they tugged the chapter a different way than I was intending. Which is something I've heard about from more experienced authors but had not seen myself before. :D 
> 
> I am heading overseas for a two week work trip and there will be no fun AO3 access (woe is me). I may not be able to respond to comments right away, but I will still treasure them. There will also be a long break between the chapters. I can't believe I managed this beast in a month, wow. A million thanks, again and again, to those who are reading along with this WIP.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief discussion of past attempted suicide.

Clint lets his head fall back against the headrest behind him. He can feel his exhaustion in the heaviness in his calves and head, sluggish response times a testament to how long it has been since he has been able to sleep. He’d tried, of course, a few times, more than enough to convince himself that he’d find no rest, even with Natasha curled up beside him. The dreams each started differently, but they all saw Clint falling, air rushing around him and a sinking feeling of inevitability in his gut. He’d jumped, but Tony’s not there to catch him. That was bad enough, but the last time he’d slipped into sleep, he hadn’t died or awoken on impact. No, broken and bleeding, he had listened to Steve and Bucky over the comms, telling him they weren’t going to come for him, that they had decided they could only take care of each other without Tony there to support them all. Clint suppresses a shiver.

The tension in his shoulders, back and neck is so tight one more breath might snap him.

He takes the breath anyway, holds it and lets it out slowly. The worry he feels for Tony, for each of them, pricks at his brain and tightens his chest. Clint can’t sleep and Tony can’t not. He wants to laugh at the juxtaposition. Tony would, but the laugh sits in his throat, doesn’t want to finish the journey out of his mouth. 

Breathe, hold, exhale. The op is over. The frustration of finding their contact already dead doesn’t register the way he knows it should. Clint knows it was a long shot, but it should sting to have nothing to show for their efforts. Natasha’s wearing her worried eyes. 

When they finally, _finally_ make it back to the tower, Natasha shoos him out of the jet, insisting that she can handle the shutdown and post-flight checks. Clint very wisely decides that it’s not worth arguing with her. He pulls up some levity from somewhere (he usually has a much deeper supply, but he’s so _tired_ ) and drops a wet, sloppy kiss on her forehead in thanks. The colorful Russian invectives that float out the door after him are enough to bring the ghost of a real smile to his face.

Clint lets out a sigh of relief when his boots hit the landing pad. No matter what else is going on, the tower is home and he feels some of the tension unspool from his spine. The wind is cold, and his breath hitches in his throat as he comes around the Quinjet and heads towards the door. He doesn’t have a chance to catch it, because Bucky is stalking towards him, all contained lethal grace. Another moment, and he is being enveloped in metal and leather-clad arms. Clint is abruptly surrounded in warmth, as Bucky turns his body to shelter Clint from the wind. He wonders why Bucky’s in his tac gear, but mostly, he’s busy melting into his boyfriend’s embrace. Bucky smells like home and Clint soaks it up for long moments before he pulls back.

Well, he tries to anyway. Bucky tenses around him and Clint abruptly realizes that Bucky’s metal hand isn’t just cradling his head, it’s _covering_ him, broad palm pressed against the vulnerable base of his spine, metal fingers wrapped above his arteries on the side that isn’t pressed into Bucky’s chest. Clint’s momentary languor drains instantly, replaced by the sharp bite of adrenaline in his veins. He tries to shift slightly to check the sightlines to the tower himself, but Bucky _growls_ a low warning in Clint’s ear.

“What the hell, Bucky?” Clint hisses.

“No.”

Clint stops wriggling and flicks a glance up to Bucky’s face. His boyfriend’s eyes are wide with terror, and when Clint holds his breath, he can just make out minute tremors in Bucky’s flesh arm. Clint tamps down on his own fear response and regulates his breathing to a slow, silent pull of air. He listens for any signs of attack, his mind whirling with contingency plans as he waits.

The quiet tension is broken not with gunshots, as Clint half expects, but by the sound of Steve’s deliberately heavy footfalls. The next moment, Steve is tucking his face next to the other two men and bringing the shield up behind Bucky like a giant vibranium umbrella.

Clint is about to start demanding that someone give him the sit rep when Steve nudges them both back towards the tower entrance. “Inside, fellas.” His voice is an interesting combination of soft and commanding, and Bucky finally thaws enough for the group to move. Steve’s face is worried, but not afraid or angry, so Clint figures that there isn’t an imminent threat. 

Once the doors close behind them, Steve drops his arm and Bucky immediately starts patrolling the windows. Clint sends an alarmed look at Steve. He doesn’t really have to ask what happened, it’s obvious that the worry over Tony’s condition has sent Bucky to a place where he can’t help his obsessive protective actions, but some details would be nice.

Steve’s mouth thins out into an unhappy line and he slumps past Clint, heading to the couch. Bucky has moved on from the windows and is checking his and Natasha’s weapons stashes in the room with silent intensity.

“Okay, what’s going on? Last time I checked in, Tony thought everything was drug-induced and vaguely hilarious, Wanda was eating anything in the pantry that wasn’t nailed down or on fire as a side effect of psycho-reading the…thing…, and Bruce was grilling SHIELD’s exobiologists. Not exactly ideal circumstances, but a far cry from this.”

Steve shift and buries his face in his hands, but doesn’t say anything for a long minute.

“ _Steve_.” Clint’s tone is sharp as an arrow point, but he doesn’t temper it. Something is even more wrong than he expected. Bucky _can’t_ tell him, and Steve isn’t. Clint’s chest squeezes again and he makes himself pull in another breath.

“He…T- Tony tried to kill himself.”

For a few seconds, Clint can’t breathe, can’t process the concept. He has a lot of practice getting his feet back under himself after receiving that kind of news, though, so it isn’t long before he comes back to himself. He has fisted his hand in Steve’s collar, grip turning his knuckles white and pressing into the muscle there with enough force to bruise a non-enhanced person.

“Who’s with him now?”

“Rhodes. He won’t let anyone else near him. I – I set him off something awful last time he saw me.” Steve’s mouth twisted in a bitter expression. “I wish I had been found before Howard died just so I could punch his fucking mouth in.”

“How could he even – “

“I don’t know, Clint, he’s been really unhappy the last couple times he’s woken up, and this time, he just started crying about how it wasn’t fair, and couldn’t he be free of me even in the afterlife and how that was part of the point…” Steve’s crying himself now, but he makes himself continue, “Bucky got real scared, and confrontational with Tony, and asked him where he expected to wake up today.” Steve sniffs.

“Tony said he wasn’t planning on waking up at all. That – that if his parents weren’t going to, that he shouldn’t be expect to do so either.”

Clint hisses, and looks to where Bucky has frozen in the act of checking the electronics in the entertainment center for bugs. In the next blink, Bucky is fleeing down the hallway. 

Beside Clint, Steve tenses and moves to get up. Clint puts a hand on his knee. “Hang on, Steve. Friday won’t let him get too far. Please, tell me what else is happening with Tony. You said he’s been sad the last few times he’s woken up. I didn’t think it had been that long, is he falling asleep faster now?”

Steve sighs, a big gusty thing filled with impatience. “He is, and I don’t understand it at all. Go talk to Bruce, Clint. You’ll get more of an answer outta him.”

“But – “

Steve’s already turned away. “I’m not leaving Bucky to beat himself up a second longer than he already has, Clint.”

Then Steve is up, striding purposefully down the hallway, and Clint doesn’t bother trying to stop him again. He takes a moment, feeling the tension sink into his shoulders, breathes. This is logical, it’s basic battlefield tactics, triage the wounded team member (Bucky) and contain the unknown variable (Bucky) in one stroke. Without Tony himself there to talk Bucky down, Steve is the next best choice if Bucky ends up triggered thinking about the deaths of the Starks. He might lash out, and Clint knows that Bucky would hate himself if Clint got hurt in the fallout. This isn’t Steve and Bucky pulling away from him. Breathe in, hold, release. It isn’t.

Steve can be like this, when things go wrong. He’s supportive, but it’s hard, sometimes, for him to see beyond their more overt pain. Tony was the one to stick around for quiet words after the confrontations, after Steve’s lectures on _staying in medical, for once in your life, Clint._ Clint misses Tony with a sharp ache, tries not to let his eyes tear up.

He has orders. Cap said to get the intel from Bruce. He can feel sorry for himself later. Or sleep. That would be so good. For now, he focuses on the mission. Friday directs him to the floor with Bruce’s lab space.

He finds Bruce angrily scribbling in a notebook, chemical compounds sketched out, long chain proteins seemingly overlapping a long column of numbers.

“Hey Doc, Steve sent me down here to check in…”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks I am going to have some sort of answer to this.” Bruce snaps. “You know what I had?” Bruce shoves away from the desk he’d been hunched over. He makes a tight turn, his hands ruffling his hair in agitation. “I had desperate plans to inject radioisotopes into his cerebrospinal fluid to track the microfluidics in his brain channels. I had even more desperate plans to revive the Extremis research. But I can’t justify trying anything now when it would be just as likely to increase this thing’s ability to hurt my friend.”

Clint is stunned. Fear and anger swirl in his stomach until he feels like it will boil over. Bruce’s frustration churns up his own. Clint is getting so very _sick_ of people snapping at him. “I get it,” he grinds out. “I know how shitty this is, how it hits us right at home, but we have faced the unimaginably shitty before. This isn’t going to beat us.”

“Psychic alien parasite eating his mind.” Bruce snaps.

Clint ignores that. “I take it SHIELD didn’t have any answers.”

“No.” Bruce grimaces, “Well, a little. They were able to help Wanda confirm that it...feels…Asgardian.”

Clint feels a pang of sadness. Tony would have loved seeing Bruce forced to describe the way a psychic alien parasite _felt_. Tony hated both magic and having to base tactical decisions on something as squishy as feelings, but he loved when that same aversion was reflected in others.

“So, Thor is looking like our only option. Is that what you’re saying?” Clint tries to control the thread of desperation in his voice, he really does, but despite his earlier words, it feels like everything is against them right now and the helplessness is threatening to choke him.

Bruce’s shoulders _ripple_ , a hint of green peeking out from his collar, but his voice is steady when he answers, “Yes, Clint, that is what I am saying.”

“There has to be something you can do! I know the bifrost is closed, but come on, Bruce! What’s the space equivalent to signal fires? Hell, send a fucking pigeon if you have to.”

“They’re more likely to use ravens.” Bruce mutters before his eyes snap wide open. “Oh my _god_ , Clint. The Raven Protocol! Tony shelved it back in October, but factoring in the results in Jane’s PRL from January, we could – it would just need to be recalibrated – and then the new probability would be high enough to warrant the power requirement – ”

Bruce’s face lights up with the mad scientist gleam. Clint is too tired for this shit so he lets Bruce wander off, doesn’t interrupt the stream of math bubbling out of the scientist’s mouth. If it’s at all possible to get in touch with Thor now, Bruce will make it work.

His knees are going rubbery and Clint knows that he’s going to have to face the nightmares because his body is just done with being awake. He trudges up to the common room. Maybe the couch won’t be so bad. Maybe his brain will be fooled into thinking he’s just dropped off after a tough mission and any minute now Tony will come in and flick his nose and tease him for drooling, but kiss him anyway. Maybe Steve will scoop him up, so smoothly a less well-trained agent wouldn’t even wake up, but Clint will, long enough to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck. Maybe Bucky will whisper dirty suggestions in his ear until Clint gives up and tackles him to the floor. 

Clint finds a sweater – huh, Steve’s – and collapses on the squishy couch. He manages to pull the oversized throw blanket off the back of it onto his legs, smashes his face into the sweater and sets about forcing his mind blank. 

He’s almost drifted off when the sweater is pulled away from his face. The wounded sound he makes would be embarrassing if he had ever given a shit about that kind of thing. Steve’s big hands are already slipping under his shoulders to lift him off the couch, so he doesn’t protest further. His boyfriend turns around and settles himself in the dip Clint’s made. He pulls the archer onto his chest, arranging their limbs for a minute until he’s satisfied with the level of entanglement. Clint manages to peel his eyes open just long enough to spot Bucky on the floor in front of the couch, back straight and tense. It’s obvious he’s not been able to break out of guarding mode, but he’s here and right now that’s enough for Clint. He sighs into Steve’s neck and lets sleep claim him.

*******************

Clint lets out a soft snore as Steve runs warm hands up and down his back. He shifts a little, and Steve wraps his arms more firmly around him. It feels undeniably good to have Clint back at the tower. The turmoil over Tony had made the absence of their other boyfriend ache fiercely, despite the short duration of his trip. Steve wishes he could sleep as well, but the way his serum interacts with adrenaline when he’s stressed means that there won’t be any slipping off into exhaustion like Clint until he can calm down sufficiently. Given the way things are going, that isn’t going to happen for a while.

Especially if he keeps screwing up and adding guilt to all the worry. Steve knows he shouldn’t have treated Clint the way he had when Clint got home. He knows his boyfriend needed reassurance as much as information when he asked about Tony and Bucky, and he knows he failed to provide it in a spectacular way. Being scared out of his mind that Tony would be lost to them permanently, would leave Steve unable to hold their group together without Tony, was no reason to hasten that outcome with his lousy attitude.

Steve _is_ scared though, so scared that talking about Tony’s rapidly deteriorating state was more than he could handle. It was cowardly, fobbing Clint off on Bruce, making Bruce be the bearer of bad news. Steve can’t really regret it, though. Whatever Clint said to Bruce seems to have given him something new to pursue. An engaged Bruce Banner can only help when they are down one of their usual geniuses. 

Tony is still a genius, of course. Steve had the pleasure of watching him come up to speed on close to two decades of technological advances in a matter of hours. It was breathtaking, watching Tony grin and spark, shaking off the melancholy mood he’d woken up with once they’d explained the situation. Curiosity is clearly an ingrained trait that is always a part of Tony Stark. Steve holds that picture in his mind; tries not to think of the way that Tony was the next time he’d woken up, screaming at Steve about his parents until he’d thrown up. Steve feels tears slip down the side of his face, but he doesn’t move from his hold on Clint to wipe them off. Seeing someone he loves that distraught has carved a groove in his heart which won’t easily be healed, even if (when, dammit, _when_ ) they get Tony back to normal.

Bucky’s raspy voice breaks the quiet. “I need you to stay on Clint, Steve. We’ve gotta protect them. You’re the only one I trust with him now.”

Steve swallows hard against the lump in his throat. He can see where Bucky’s going with this, but he asks anyway, “Not even you?”

“Especially not me, Stevie.”

Steve lets that comment go for now and asks, “You’ll be on Tony?”

“Of course. He’s less likely to react badly to me, and even if he does, he doesn’t have to know I’m there.”

“Or you could put your time to better use and help us get him back.” Natasha’s voice is quiet for Clint’s sake as she slips into the room. She stops next to Bucky and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, ignoring the knife that had appeared in his hand.

Steve shifts, moving Clint’s weight off him slightly, trying to determine if he can get out from under his boyfriend without waking the man. Clint snuffles slightly, drawing Nat’s attention. She glares, “I didn’t mean you, Steve Rogers. If you wake him up I am going to stab you somewhere distinctly unkind. Stay. We’ve got this.”

Steve takes a moment to admire her courage in threatening one of Bucky’s boyfriends while his Winter Soldier instincts are so close to the surface. He nods his understanding and snuggles deeper into the couch, but can’t hold back a whispered, “What’s going on, Nat?”

“Bruce thinks he can contact Thor. We need some help with the heavy lifting.” 

Bucky nods and climbs to his feet.

Steve says, “Be careful. And, please, report back as soon as you can. Please.”

Nat smiles softly back to him as she and Bucky leave. Bucky doesn’t look back, striding out of the living room almost at a run. Steve understands his urgency, and tries not to feel trapped under Clint. He reminds himself that he trusts his team and his boyfriends. If Bruce’s plan works, they might have answers very soon. If it doesn’t, it won’t be because Steve wasn’t standing there.

He runs his fingers through Clint’s short hair and tries to focus just on the feel of it. They will find an answer soon. They _will_. They have to, because Steve doesn’t know how much longer they can last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this fic isn't abandoned! Yay! I am so sorry for the delay on getting this chapter up. It was just hard to get any progress on it. I have noticed a trend when I write late...the guys keep fighting against their exhaustion... I wonder where that is coming from... 
> 
> ~~This should be the penultimate chapter. Looking forward to fixing this mess I've got them into. :D~~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's the next chapter! It is not, as previously indicated, the last chapter. I'm so sorry! I really thought there would only be one more, but this came to a nice place and I wanted to get it up sooner rather than later for Akira because I thought they could use a little something right now.
> 
> A couple of quick things, for those of you who haven't watched much Star Trek:  
> [Here is a link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3i42Smtbmeg) to the scene that Rhodey references.  
> and the characters: [Q](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Q_\(Star_Trek\)) and [Data](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Data_\(Star_Trek\))

Rhodey shifts in the plush armchair pulled up to Tony’s bedside. He props the tablet in his hands up on the chair’s arm, adjusts the screen angle again. He checks on Tony – still out cold – and moves the tablet back to his lap. He knows he’s fidgeting, he can’t help it. Tony is about to wake up. If the algorithm that Rhodey and Friday put together is correct, Tony is about to wake up as _Rhodey’s Tony_. The young man who was simultaneously too small and too huge for their dorm room. The person he was awed by, annoyed by, who stole a part of his heart so effortlessly, and stamped “brother” on Rhodey’s soul. Rhodey can’t wait to see his best friend, before the death of his parents and the long slide into bitter notoriety, when the glimpses of his sweet best friend were all too brief and difficult to evoke outside of the sanctuary of his workshop. 

Before Afghanistan and the palladium poisoning and the PTSD. Before the frequent near-death experiences warped Rhodey’s sense of panic when it came to Tony. Really, he can see Tony, right here, still breathing. Not lost, not being tortured, not even in any pain. It could be so much worse. They’ll get this sorted out. Natasha had texted to let him know about the newest attempts to contact Thor and it sounds promising. Yeah, Rhodey’s not worried. 

He knows enough to keep his anticipation to himself, though. Steve, Bucky and Clint all have a well-developed sense of panic over their boyfriend. It makes sense. They didn’t experience Afghanistan, the three months of agonized uncertainty when he didn’t know if Tony was even still alive and if he would ever see his friend again. They weren’t there when Tony’s house fell into the ocean, though Rhodey wishes they had been. Wishes that Tony had reached out, at least to Steve, earlier. That he hadn’t been lonely and pining for so long. 

They also hadn’t been around for _his_ Tony. Only Rhodey and DUM-E had been there for his Tony. And of the two of them, only Rhodey can really appreciate how adorable this is going to be. 

Well, he’ll have to wake up first.

“Lazy ass,” Rhodey chuckles. “Always was impossible to get you out of bed, once you’d finally deigned to sleep.”

He goes back to his research. He’s reading through the summaries of the Star Trek episodes that concern either time travel (preferably forward in time) or amnesia and checking their air dates. He figures it would make for an easy way to broach the subject with Tony. At this point, Rhodey’s been at it for almost twenty minutes and isn’t coming up with anything. His face creases into a frown. He can’t believe that Star Trek is failing him. There isn’t really any episode that mirrors Tony’s situation, a fact which is somewhat difficult to believe considering the expanse of the source material. He decides that he’ll put on All Good Things, the Next Generation series finale. Tony won’t remember it, since it aired in 1994, but despite that he’s happy with his choice. It’s good Star Trek and Tony always did like Q. That is, if they have a chance to watch something. Tony’s awake periods have been decreasing as he slides back in his memories.

Rhodey manages to catch the moment that Tony wakes up. His nose scrunches adorably and he starts cursing, a low stream of grumbled profanity. Rhodey tries to choke down a laugh, but he still snorts a little.

Tony looks over to Rhodey. “Oh!” Tony squints a little and says, hesitantly, “Mr. Rhodes? Are you James Rhodes’ dad, uh, sir?”

Happiness and anticipation burst in Rhodey’s chest, he can’t wait to tease Tony about finally getting a ‘sir’ out of him. “Well…”

Tony’s eyes widen and he lifts his head out of the pillow. “Is Rhodey okay? James, I mean. Uh, is James okay?”

Rhodey frowns.

Tony starts to look a little more frantic. “I walked him home, Mr. Rhodes, I swear. I didn’t trust the guys, really, they were using us for homework help, I know it, but Rhodey said they were alright, even though I know one of them was muttering about the ‘black guy and the baby’ when we got there. We got the homework done and then I walked him back to his apartment and then he insisted that he had to walk me back to the dorms but when we got there I told him I had to walk him home, really, we can go on for a while, but the point is that I kept an eye on him when he left the last time because it was really late and he got home okay, I swear. I don’t know why Professor Battin made that homework set so long anyway, it was ridiculous.” Tony takes a deep breath. “Is he okay? Because I don’t know where I am, but you’re here so you probably know if something happened to us. I don’t remember anything past the third time I walked him home.”

“It’s alright, Tony. He went inside and no one bothered him, I promise.” He vaguely remembers the night that Tony has just lived. That orbital mechanics homework set was, in fact, ridiculous. There had been five of them working on it, including _Tony Stark_ , and it still took more than six hours. 

“And, um, Mr. Rhodes?”

“Yeah?”

“Rhodey, I mean, uh, James, was the one who figured out most of it. He’s really smart and I just thought you would want to know that you should be proud of him.”

Which wasn’t at all how Rhodey remembered it. He’s fairly sure that Tony had been the key to figuring it out. Warm fondness rushes through Rhodey, with old anger at Howard on its heels. He’d managed to let himself forget just how awful Howard was to his son, and how Tony didn’t really have any other frame of reference for how a father should behave towards a child. That Tony was worried about Rhodey’s standing in his father’s eyes, and was willing to lie to his face if it meant that “Mr. Rhodes” would be satisfied with his own son, wasn’t surprising.

“Tony, what did Rhodey say to you the first time you introduced him to your bot?”

Tony blushes slightly and won’t meet Rhodey’s eyes when he answers, “Um…he said, ‘This is some Star Trek shit.’ Um, sir.”

“Well, man, this is some Star Trek shit.”

Tony’s eyes darted up to meet Rhodey’s, widening in shock. “Excuse me?”

“It’s 2016. The year is 2016.”

Tony stares for a full minute. Rhodey nods at the mirror across the room and Tony scrambles over to it. His jaw drops open and he turns back to Rhodey, whispers a hesitant, “Honeybear? That’s you all old, isn’t it?”

Rhodey feels his face stretch into a huge grin. “Hey, Tones. You’re pretty old yourself.”

“Shut up, you’re still older.”

“Yeah, but I make this look good.”

Tony makes a face at Rhodey. “You’re okay, though, right? How did we end up here? DeLorean? Slingshot around the sun? TARDIS?”

“Ah, well, the usual way, unfortunately.” Rhodey watches Tony’s face as he processes that. He gets it pretty quickly, that something is wrong, and puts on the blank PR mask that means he’s anxious but is biding his time until he can figure out which persona he needs to be. It hurts Rhodey’s chest to see that particular dance of expressions.

“What’s wrong with me, platypus?”

“It’s gonna be okay, Tones. We’re gonna get it sorted soon, calling in a specialist right now.”

“Rhodey. Tell me the truth.”

“You can’t handle the truth!”

“Yes, I can! What the hell do you mean?”

“Ah, damn, that movie came out in ’92.”

Seeing Tony’s teenager pout on his forties face, now that is an experience. It’s not quite as effective, but his big doe eyes are wounded and Rhodey takes pity on him. Well, for a given value of pity. “You remember what happened to Chekov and Terrell in Wrath of Khan?”

Tony’s face goes white and he slaps his hands to his ears. “Nooo, what the hell?”

Rhodey grimaces. Yeah, that’s horrifying, but it is the most effect way he has of communicating _alien parasite in your brain_ to a teenaged Tony Stark. And that’s just never going to be an easy reveal. Tony’s looking green around the edges and Rhodey reaches out to guide him back to sit on the bed. “You okay, man?”

“It doesn’t hurt. I’m just dizzy.”

“Yeah, that’s been a recurring symptom. That and the memory loss. I’m sorry, Tones.”

Tony sits for a minute. His voice is quiet when he says, “Really? There’s something in my head?”

“Yeah. We’re working on getting it out without hurting you.”

“Gross.” The silence closes in for another minute, and then, “Rhodey?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“Thanks for telling me. I’m really, really glad you’re still around.”

Rhodey puts his arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulls him into a side-hug. “Me, too.” Tony relaxes into the hug and Rhodey ruffles his hair a little with his other hand. 

They sit that way for a while, propped up against each other. Tony’s quieter than Rhodey expected. He’s about to ask if there’s anything he can get Tony when there’s a soft knock on the door and Clint pokes his head in. Rhodey nods and gestures the other man inside. They’d agreed, after the last time Tony saw Steve, that he shouldn’t have either Howling Commando sprung on him without gauging his likely reaction.

“And who might you be?” Tony asks, sitting up to peer more closely at Clint.

Clint briefly meets Rhodey’s eyes. Rhodey nods. They’d also agreed not to lie or withhold the truth when Tony asked a direct question, unless it was likely to lead to him hurting himself. Clint clears his throat, “I’m Clint. I’m, uh, your boyfriend. I came to let you know that I made lunch. Grilled cheese?”

Tony springs up, waving his arms around, “Ooooh, grilled cheese? YES, please, marry me. I am suddenly ravenous.”

Clint bursts into laughter as Tony takes his hands and spins them around. “Is that all it takes to get you to propose these days? I’ll keep that in mind when you’re back to yourself.”

Tony sobers at the reminder, his amusement falling away from one blink to the next. Clint looks like he just got punched in the gut, “Hey, no, sweetheart, it’s alright. I have hot, melty cheese on bread for you, yeah? It’s gonna be okay.”

Tony looks up at Clint, then gently reaches up to touch his face. “I have a sweet boyfriend,” he sighs, and casts a quick look back at Rhodey. “I’m out, now?” he asks. 

“Yeah, Tones,” Rhodey replies, “It’s not as big a deal anymore. It’s not perfect, but we’ve come a long way since what you remember.”

Tony smiles at that, a little bit. “What did Howard say when he found out?”

Both Rhodey and Clint tense at the question. Before they can answer it, Tony’s made the leap himself. “Howard doesn’t know. How can he not…” Tony swallows, hard, and closes his eyes. “He’s dead.”

Rhodey takes a deep breath, not really sure what he’s about to say, but Tony’s made another leap. He bites his lip and asks, voice small, “Mom?”

“She’s gone too, Tones.” Rhodey forces himself to answer. Tony swears under his breath.

Clint moves forward, instinctually, to hug Tony, but Tony stiffens and pulls back. “Sorry,” Clint whispers.

They’re both waiting for Tony to react, to demand answers or to yell or _something_ , but all Tony does is take another step back and run his hands through his hair. “No, it’s – I’m fine. Hot cheese, you said?”

Rhodey meets Clint’s eyes and decides to let Tony deflect for now. He stands up and clasps a hand to Tony’s shoulder. “Hot cheese. Let’s go eat, man.”

Clint nods and leads the way down to the common area kitchen. When they get there, Rhodey sees Vision is watching the half dozen sandwiches on the griddle. He greets the newcomers warmly. The smell of butter and toasting bread makes Rhodey’s mouth water. Wanda is slumped at the table with a huge bowl of soup and three sandwiches of her own. She sits up straighter when they enter the room and barks out, “Stark! I am going to gain twenty pounds at this rate and I am definitely blaming you.”

Tony startles from where he was frozen in the doorway, eyes fixed on Vision. Rhodey sighs, “Ignore her. And he’s like Data.”

“Really?”

“Close enough,” answers Clint.

“This is some Star Trek shit, guys. Are we sure we’re not just high?”

Wanda snorts. Rhodey shakes his head and guides Tony to a seat at the other end of the table. Vision has plated the sandwiches and Rhodey deposits one in front of his best friend. “We’re not high, this is just how our lives are now. Eat.”

Rhodey sits down beside Tony and Clint brings over three bowls of soup to distribute. Everyone with a human metabolism digs in, while Vision watches, calm as ever. Apparently, Tony has forgotten basic decency, as he is currently dunking his sandwich in his soup and eating it all soggy. “Ugh, that is so gross.”

“Did I not grow out of this, old man?”

“I am despairing of you, kid. Totally despairing.”

Tony makes a face at him and takes an overly enthusiastic bite of his soggy sandwich. Rhodey is just finishing his own sandwich and starting in on his soup, separately, like a normal person, when Natasha swishes through the door. Tony promptly chokes on a bite of soggy sandwich. Rhodey thumps him on the back, hard, before Tony stops sputtering. “Oh, wow, you are the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” Tony whispers.

Natasha smirks, “You’re not my type, baby boy.”

Tony flushes to the roots of his hair and then, belatedly, looks guiltily at Clint. Clint pats Tony’s arm. “Tasha, what’s the word?”

“Thor will be here any minute. Have you told him about the soldiers?”

“What soldiers?” Tony pipes up, efficiently answering her question.

Rhodey is trying to think of how to tell Tony about Steve and Bucky when Wanda beats him to the punch. “They found Captain America, aka Steve Rogers, alive but frozen in the arctic and defrosted him in time for him to rescue Bucky Barnes, who had been captured and experimented on by Hydra.”

Tony gapes at her. Clint sighs, and Rhodey shoots Wanda a glare. She shrugs, unrepentant. “What? He’s fine. He was fine with Vision.”

“Vision is advanced tech, of course Tony’s fine with him,” Rhodey growls.

“Well, now he knows,” she says.

“You really expect me to believe that?” Tony demands.

There’s an uncomfortable silence during which Wanda raises her eyebrows in challenge, Natasha looks amused, and Clint’s eyes practically beg Rhodey to field this. Rhodey manages, “Yeah, actually.”

“Guys, I really don’t think playing ‘fuck with the amnesiac’ is a good time, okay?” Tony looks genuinely angry and about two seconds from storming out.

“Tony,” Steve says, making his sad-serious face at his boyfriend from the doorway. Bucky is lurking behind Steve, his shoulders scrunched in and eyes downcast.

There’s a loud bang as Tony jumps out of his seat and his chair hits the floor. Everyone flinches. Tony’s rapidly backing away, out the second exit towards the living room. Rhodey gets to his feet, throwing a quick glance back at Steve. Steve’s taken a few steps into the room, but Bucky’s got his wrist and so far that’s enough to stop Steve. 

“I’ll talk to him. Give us a few minutes, yeah?” Rhodey says, and takes off after Tony.

He hasn’t gone far. He’s curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the sofa. Rhodey sits down next to him and has barely landed when Tony uncurls enough to tuck his face in Rhodey’s shoulder. He brings his arm up around his friend and tugs him closer.

“It’s too much, Rhodey-bear. I tried to keep it together, through a lot of weird and wrong shit, okay? But that’s – that was Captain America, just. Just standing there. Right there. Alive.”

“I know,” whispers Rhodey. His shirt is getting wet, and Tony’s breath hitches ever so slightly. Rhodey’s heart pangs, for the teenager who had learned to cry like this, silent and hidden as possible, and for this Tony, who has forgotten that he doesn’t have to anymore.

“Did Howard know?” Tony sniffles.

“No.”

Tony sighs, “Well, at least I never had to deal with that.”

“Yeah. Silver lining.” Rhodey rubs his hand across Tony’s back and shoulders, trying to offer silent comfort while Tony finishes his cry. Eventually, his breathing evens out. Rhodey presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls back to suggest they get everyone in here before Thor shows up, but what leaves his mouth is only emphatic cursing.

Tony’s fallen asleep on him. Fuck.

His outburst brings everyone in from the kitchen. Clint echoes his cursing when he spots Tony. Steve slumps, his entire posture weary, and buries his face in his hands. Rhodey knows it isn’t his fault, but he can’t help the apology that spills from his lips. Natasha and Bucky approach the couch. 

“May I.” Bucky says, gesturing to Tony. His voice is flat, no inflection indicates that he actually asked a question. Rhodey hesitates, searching Bucky’s face. He is clearly struggling, and there is far more emotion in his eyes than his voice had held. He is clearly not the Winter Soldier right now. Rhodey checks in with Clint and Natasha. Clint nods, but Rhodey doesn’t move to make room on the couch until Natasha gently squeezes his free shoulder. 

Bucky slips in beside Tony, and Rhodey automatically moves to shift Tony over to him. It’s a well-practiced maneuver for them, so Rhodey is rather confused when Bucky doesn’t take Tony. Bucky shakes his head and tips Tony back towards Rhodey, only reaching out to cradle Tony’s limp hand in his metal one. Rhodey shoots him a questioning look.

“He won’t know me when he wakes up. He ain’t gonna be keen to find himself snuggled up to someone like me. Better if it’s you,” Bucky rasps.

Rhodey tucks Tony’s head back in the crook of his neck, but he feels compelled to point out, “He won’t know me either, you know.”

That gets Clint and Steve’s attention from the other couch. “Are you sure?” Steve asks.

“Pretty sure. Friday?”

“I calculate Boss will remember only up to age seven or eight when he next regains consciousness,” the AI comments.

Steve jumps back to his feet, nervous energy twitching out of his fingertips, and bursts out, “That’s so much time lost! At that rate, the next time could be the last time he wakes up from this!”

“That would be consistent with the algorithm’s predictions, Captain.” 

A heavy silence blankets the group. Clint tugs Steve back down to the other couch and wraps him in his arms. Rhodey knew, intellectually, that Tony’s memories would all be gone soon, but it’s still a blow to the chest to hear it said explicitly. They don’t really know what will happen once Tony forgets everything and Rhodey isn’t eager to find out. 

The stunned quiet lasts only a few moments before the world outside the windows explodes in vivid color. The floor rumbles under Rhodey’s feet and then Thor is striding through the sliding door, Mjölnir raised and battle-ready. “My friends! Beyond your entreaty for haste, I was unable to decipher your missive.”

“Thor!” several voices shout in unison. Thor walks over to Steve, clapping his shoulder soundly and rocking him into Clint. “Captain! What news?”

The elevator doors open and Bruce and Pepper spill out. Pepper is still pulling her hair back into a ponytail and Bruce has a cup of coffee in each hand. His face is the pure relief of someone delivered in the moments after they’d given up hope.

“The gang’s all here,” Wanda mutters.

“It’s Tony…” Steve starts to say, but his voice breaks. Natasha smoothly steps in and explains the situation to Thor. Her voice is calm and her description is detailed but not overly long. Rhodey is silently grateful, not for the first time, that she is so accustomed to giving intel briefings. Bruce chimes in with his findings. Rhodey stays put on the couch, running his hand up and down Tony’s arm, even though it is only comforting for himself at the moment. Tony’s beyond comfort right now. 

Thor listens intently, allowing everyone to finish their reporting with minimal interruptions for clarification. He visibly reacts when Wanda adds that she could sense the thing’s hunger and that it was probably Asgardian in origin, frowning fiercely and crossing his arms across his chest. They fall back to his sides when Friday plays the recorded video of the lab accident, a look of self-recrimination settles onto his face. When Natasha finishes, he crouches down in front of Bucky, Tony and Rhodey on their couch. “I have an idea of what may have happened, my friends. May I examine him?” 

He smells faintly of ozone and his armor creaks as he reaches out towards Tony. Rhodey and Bucky help shift the unconscious man more upright. Thor’s hands come to rest on Tony’s head; one presses against his forehead and the other cups the base of Tony’s skull. The thought that Thor could easily crush his friend’s fragile human head like ripe fruit slides into Rhodey’s brain before he shoves it aside. He looks away from the men beside him and meets Pepper’s eyes across the room. Her lips are pressed in a thin line. Clint and Steve drift over to hover behind the couch. Clint’s fingers tangle in Bucky’s hair and Steve rests his hands on the back of the couch directly behind Tony.

“How long has he been suffering thus?” Thor asks. 

“About a week,” Rhodey estimates.

“6 days 14 hours 49 minutes,” Friday answers.

Thor gently releases his hold and Steve reaches out to ease Tony back against the couch. His hands stay on Tony’s shoulders. Steve asks, “How did this happen, Thor? Do you know if one of your people is responsible?”

Thor heaves a sigh that Rhodey feels on his cheek. “No, not one of my people, Steve. Me. I am responsible.”

The room erupts in noise as the eight conscious Avengers and Pepper Potts all demand clarification, some with more colorful language than others. Thor grimaces and Steve holds up a hand for silence, adding a Captain America glare when the order isn’t immediately obeyed. Rhodey grits his teeth together to keep his words bottled up and lets Steve ask, “Thor, what do you mean? You gave him a parasite?”

“Tis not a parasite,” Thor says.

“Like hell, I can see it in his mind,” Wanda growls. “It’s _hungry_.”

“There is no corporeal body,” Thor protests. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“If it’s not a parasite, what is it, Thor?” Bruce asks.

“A spell. A minor, harmless spell encased in a children’s toy.”

Another bit of stunned silence follows that pronouncement. Rhodey breaks it with a quiet, “Oh, you fucking idiot,” and he’s not sure if he’s talking to Tony or Thor.

“Friday, please play the lab footage again,” Natasha requests. They all watch Tony aim his repulsor at the desk. “Freeze it,” she says. She walks to the projection and zooms the image on the Asgardian toy, clearly resting on Tony’s desk, about to be obliterated by a cranky genius. She levels Thor with a stern look. “There’s a spell in there?” she asks.

“Aye. Such things are commonly given as small tokens to children that they may be kept occupied when mock fighting or excessive noise would not be appropriate.”

“I didn’t know there was such a time for Asgardians,” Bruce teases. “What does the spell do, Thor?”

“The toy is a puzzle, when the puzzle is solved, the spell triggers, erasing the previous thought from one’s head.”

A beat passes before Bucky shouts, “Why in the world would you give that sort of thing to _children_?” His face is red and screwed up in fury.

Thor startles, but doesn’t back away from the furious Winter Soldier. “Surely you see? That way, the puzzle does not grow dull. If one does not remember the solution, the game remains interesting for the player.” He drops his head, somewhat dejected. “It is not meant to do harm. I do not understand how it could be strong enough to be the cause of what Iron Man is experiencing.”

“So, you’ve never heard of anything like this happening before?” Bruce asks.

Thor looks thoughtful and through a minor miracle no one interrupts those thoughts. “Not that I can recall. It should not have such power, even removed from its housing. He must have poured considerable mental energy into the device.”

“According to my observations, Boss found the mechanics of the puzzle soothing, frequently holding the object in question while occupied with other mental tasks. I estimate he held the puzzle 12% of his time in the workshop,” Friday says.

“It was his favorite fidget,” Rhodey realizes.

“It may have been more than the mechanics that Iron Man found soothing. The spell would produce a very minor feeling of calm and mental focus before the solution triggered the memory erasure. If he were to work the puzzle deliberately without reaching the solution, it would have been a subtle mental aid,” Thor explains.

“Could that explain why it grew so much more powerful than you would have expected, Thor?” Bruce asks.

“Aye, it could be. Tony Stark possesses one of the keenest minds I have ever encountered in the nine realms. Even his passing surface thoughts would have been significant, and prolonged contact with the device may have driven its development.”

Steve exhales a shaky laugh and bends down to kiss Tony’s forehead. “You’re too smart for your own good, love. I always said it.”

“Though I fail to understand why he would deliberately destroy something he found useful,” Thor continues.

“It’s Stark. Why wouldn’t he blow something up?” Wanda snarks. 

“He was frustrated,” Bucky cuts in, voice low.

Rhodey frowned. “But the toy would have helped, right? Unless…” 

“Thor, did Tony know that the puzzle was deliberately deleting the solution every time he worked it out?” Steve asks.

“I do not know, Captain.”

Clint and Natasha make identical humming sounds. Clint voices, “If he hadn’t known, and somehow realized what it was doing…”

“Especially now, with Bucky’s triggers...” Natasha continues.

“He’d get rid of it the most expedient way possible.” Clint finishes.

“It being nice or soothing wouldn’t even enter into his thought process in the slightest,” Bruce adds.

Suddenly voicing a plausible explanation after so much uncertainty causes a noticeable shift in the room. Pepper sighs like she hasn’t really let a breath go since she got here. The Avengers settle like the aftermath of an avalanche. The chaos, uncertainty and helplessness gradually fades, leaving a brief feeling of relief at the lack, until the cold reality becomes clear once more. They are still fighting against a countdown with their teammate’s life at risk. Rhodey knows they need a solution, soon. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard, blocking out the visual of all his worried friends. Frustrated, Rhodey turns to Vision. “Can you talk this out for me, Vis?”

“Freed of its confinement and accustomed to Tony’s thoughts, the spell went, somehow, into his mind. Once there, instead of providing calm and focus, as it had been doing for years, its memory lapse protocol was and continues to be targeting, aggressively, Tony’s memories, with prolonged unconsciousness as either a new trigger or a side-effect,” Vision summarizes.

“While the actual trigger for the memory erasure hasn’t been supplied at all,” Natasha adds.

Rhodey nods. “Okay. It’s not a parasite. It’s magical, not biological. Which means it’s technological, because magic is tech in Asgard.” He pauses, and Thor nods encouragingly. Rhodey continues, feeling his way through the thought, “The spell is like code, when certain conditional statements are true, the corresponding algorithm is processed. But somehow, the spell was corrupted instead of eliminated when Tony destroyed the puzzle and it jumped to his brain. Like porting code to a new system where slightly incompatible compilers create a bug.”

“Good analogy, except we can’t debug it because we don’t have access to the source code,” Bruce says.

“What if we give it the actual trigger?” Pepper asks. Everyone turns to look at her, but she just smooths down her skirt and repeats herself, more measured. “Would it help if he actually solves the puzzle?”

“But he blew it up,” Clint points out.

“Vision?” Pepper prompts, “Think you and Friday together can get a good facsimile fabricated before he wakes up again?”

“Indeed, Ms. Potts.” The android doesn’t waste time, phasing through the floor to get to the lab.

Steve and Clint are starting to look hopeful. Rhodey knows how they feel, his chest lightens at the thought that they could get Tony back soon. Bucky says, “So, someone just has to get a kid Tony to calm down from freakin’ out ‘bout wakin’ up as an adult and do a puzzle?”

Rhodey grins, “Not someone. Steve. At that age? Tony would literally eat his own heart if Captain America told him it was the key to a mission. Using his smarts to save someone for Cap is going to be a dream come true for him.”

Steve beams, smiling brighter than Rhodey has seen in weeks. Clint elbows him gently and looks down to Tony, who has slumped sideways somewhat awkwardly between Rhodey and Bucky. Steve comes around the front of the couch and scoops his unconscious boyfriend into his arms. He settles Tony securely against his chest and Rhodey can see the way Steve takes command of himself again. “Okay. Bruce, Thor, Wanda, and Natasha: I want you four to brainstorm additional contingency plans. Give me some other options if this doesn’t work. Maybe there is something Wanda can do now that Thor can provide some guidance on the nature of the spell. Pepper, will you help Vision please?”

Pepper nods and makes her way to the elevator. “Keep me posted, Steve.”

The four boyfriends head to the other set of elevators that go up to the penthouse. Rhodey stands up and shuffles after them. “Where do you need me, Cap?”

“You’re gonna help us come up with a mission for Tony.”

Rhodey grins, and after they have Tony settled into bed, that’s just what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RHODEY! You were a pleasure to write. Thanks, everyone, for the comments and kudos and even the silent hits. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will be back for the next one (it HAS to be the last one, guys, really).
> 
> Also, I recently participated in the BuckyNat Mini Bang, which was a lot of fun. If you are interested in Bucky/Natasha or in Ballet AUs or pretty pretty art, please check out the work [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10424601)


	7. Chapter 7

This is so wrong. Fear prickles across Steve’s body, helplessness itching at his skin. Steve can recall dozens of times he’s been in this position before, here in the penthouse, in uniform, about to kiss a sleeping Tony goodbye. The parody of normalcy makes him nauseous. He knows he should treat today like any other mission. They have a strategy in place; in a few minutes, there will be a final brief with the team, but he can’t seem to get his thoughts under control, not when Tony is so very still across the room.

Bucky stands at his side in his old uniform, the soft blue coat stretched across his broad shoulders. He shifts beside Steve and brings an arm up to clasp a hand on the back of Steve’s neck. “I’m gonna be here for you, you know that, right?” Bucky’s voice falters, choking a little on his next words, “I might – if things go wrong, if we can’t – “ he pulls in an unsteady breath. “I might have go away for a while, to deal with it, to keep you and Clint safe, but I will always come back to you, Stevie.”

Steve turns into Bucky, feels his boyfriend wrap his arms around Steve’s back. For a moment, he breathes in the crook of Bucky’s neck and lets himself be held up by Bucky’s solid body. 

There is a soft knock on the door and Natasha steps into the room. Steve grants himself one final inhale before he forces himself to straighten and turn towards her.

She’s calm as she reports, “Clint said he found what he was looking for. He’s heading back now. Wanda and Thor need to have a word with you before Tony wakes up.”

Steve nods, swallowing down the worry as best he can. It still sits in his stomach in a leaden ball, but he tries to ignore it. He can’t afford to spend any more thought on it; they have a job to do. Natasha settles against the wall, posture relaxed, silently agreeing to watch over Tony. Bucky squeezes his hand and the two of them head back out of the bedroom.

Thor and Wanda are waiting out in the penthouse living room. Wanda looks tiny next to the Asgardian, her dark head bent towards his golden one. Sitting together on the sofa, the pair present a contrast in every aspect except a matched set of serious frowns. Steve clears his throat and both heads pop up, intent gazes fixed on Steve.

“Captain, we have been considering the problem, and I believe that we will need to include Wanda in the plan if we are to recover Tony’s memories in addition to banishing the spell.”

Steve forces his shoulders back from their slump. “What do you mean?”

Wanda grimaces. “We have to assume that the memories aren’t already gone. If they are there isn’t anything to be done.” Bucky makes a pained noise, but Wanda continues, “We’re hoping that the spell is holding them – hidden from Stark – but still present in his mind.”

The fear is still trying to worm its way up Steve’s throat; he swallows again. “Okay. Can we get to them? Last time you were in there you couldn’t see anything except the thing’s hunger. Right?”

Wanda nods. Thor continues, “We hope that when the spell is triggered with the puzzle, Wanda will be able to see more, find the memories and preserve them.”

“Will it be dangerous for either of you?”

“Iron Man will not be in more peril than his current position.”

“Wanda?” Steve turns to his young teammate.

She shrugs. “I should be able to keep my own mind separate. I don’t think it will be any different from what I have already done.”

Steve suppresses a flinch at the reminder of Wanda’s powers, a wave of mourning and loneliness rises in his chest when he thinks about that empty dance hall. He clears his throat and orders, “Thor, can you track down Vision and Pepper and check out their version of the toy? We need to be sure it feels the same as your original.”

Thor claps a gentle hand on Wanda’s shoulder and heaves himself to his feet. “Aye, Captain.” Steve gets a somewhat more boisterous slap to his back from the Asgardian. “All will be well soon, my friend.” He jogs out of the room in a sweep of red cloak.

“Buck, can you go check on Clint, please?” Steve asks.

Bucky shoots him a knowing glance, but leans in for a kiss before leaving without comment. Steve watches him go before turning back to Wanda. “Wanda, I am trusting you here.”

“You trust me with your life nearly every time we are in the field,” she reminds him. The fingers of one hand twitch around the rings on the other.

“And yet, I have never placed more in your hands than right now,” Steve whispers. “Please, be careful with him.”

Wanda purses her lips, looking defensive, but she meets Steve’s eyes. He holds her gaze, tries to make her see how much Tony means to him, the love and worry churning inside him. _It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I cannot stand the thought of what failing would mean._ He thinks it at her, not sure he can say it aloud.

She nods and drops her gaze. “Okay Steve,” she says to her hands. He reaches out and gives them a squeeze.

“Captain,” Friday pipes up, “you have company.”

Steve walks over to the door and opens it. Standing in the hallway are Bucky and Clint. Clint is wearing a perfectly tailored replica WWII uniform. Bucky has his arm slung around Clint’s waist, metal hand resting on the olive drab wool hugging Clint’s hip. Steve stares, unable to muster words, for a long minute. His eyes catch on the yellow tie at Clint’s throat and the desire to yank it off Clint’s neck and suck marks into the skin beneath slams into Steve. He hears himself whine, softly. Clint’s eyes flash and Bucky uses his position to push Clint into Steve’s space, wrapping his own arms around the two of them a second later. Steve holds on tight, but still can’t process the rush of lust overlaying the background stress. He pulls back far enough to grab Clint’s face in both hands and kiss him, deeply. Clint surges up to meet him, tongue insistent in Steve’s mouth, giving as good as he’s getting from Steve. Bucky watches avidly for a moment, but hip checks Clint after far too short a time. Clint pulls back, whispering, “Oh my god.”

Steve whines again. “Where did you get this?”

Pain splashes across Clint’s face and his hands clench at Steve’s back. “Tony’s got one, too. We had them made a while ago, but we were saving them for a special occasion. It was supposed to be for your birthday, but I’m not sure either of us would have been able to wait that long.”

Steve exhales shakily and presses a softer kiss to Clint’s mouth. “Okay.” He wipes at the tear making its way down Clint’s cheek, feels Bucky do the same for him. “Okay, we are getting our Tony back, goddammit.” He steps back and glances up to address Friday, “Is the room set up, Fry?”

“Indeed. You can move boss downstairs as soon as you’re ready. I calculate that he will wake up between 38 and 42 minutes from now.”

Bucky squeezes his arms around the two of them and then lets them go. “I’ll get Tony,” he tosses over his shoulder as he heads towards their bedroom.

Steve laces his fingers through Clint’s. He hears Natasha and Bucky’s murmured voices, and then they are coming back out of the bedroom. Bucky has Tony cradled in his arms. Wanda stands up from the sofa and joins the group at the door.

“Nat,” Steve says, “Can you please find Wanda something appropriate to wear? She’s gonna join the party. And hurry, we don’t have much time to get into place.”

Natasha nods and the two women slip out, disappearing through the door to the staircase that leads down to the other Avengers’ living spaces. Steve leads his boyfriends over to the elevator. A short ride later, they are heading down another hallway to a guest suite that Rhodey and two SHIELD agents have turned into the vintage hospital scene they used on Steve when he first woke up. A shudder runs down his back when he walks in, but it passes quickly. It’s hard to focus on what he lost years ago when he has so much here, so much more to lose now. Bucky gently settles the still-sleeping Tony onto the bed and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

Steve has a moment, just a heartbeat, where everything stalls. There’s a breathless second when Bucky’s lips brush Tony’s skin that floats, like shifting gears on his bike sometimes does, a brief second before the transmission catches, a pause before life yanks him along again. After days of grinding stress, it comes down to right now. They have a plan cobbled together on a foundation of guesswork and held by the gossamer red strands of Wanda’s barely-explored powers. Beside him, Clint draws a carefully controlled breath. Steve casts around for something to say, to be an anchor for the three of them, but before he lands on anything the door is opening again to Pepper and Thor.

Pepper does her own check on Tony before Rhodey ushers them all outside the room. Wanda and Natasha meet them in the hallway. Wanda is wearing a basic shirtwaist dress with an A-line skirt and a pointed collar. Her hair is up in loose victory curls and her mouth has been painted almost the exact shade Peggy used to wear. It’s not perfect, not like Clint’s gorgeous recreation, but it should pass muster with an eight-year-old. Even if that eight-year-old is Tony Stark.

Thor passes the puzzle to Steve. He takes a moment to look at the device which has caused him so much recent anguish. It is a twelve-sided shape, almost perfectly sized to fit in his hand. Each side has several brightly colored tabs that click gently as Steve shifts the device. One whole side of the device starts to slide against another, but it is stopped by one of the tabs. Squinting, Steve things he could see how to move the obstructing tab and complete the motion, but before he can try it, Clint is laying his hand over the device. Steve blushes and brings his attention back to the gathered Avengers. He clears his throat and says, “Wanda, Clint and Bucky here with me. Wanda, you’ll be a nurse. Everyone else, there is a conference room on this floor so that you can be close. Friday will have this room monitored the whole time.”

“Bruce got donuts,” Natasha adds. The tension in her shoulders belies her relaxed tone. She gives Steve, Bucky and Clint each a kiss on the cheek and walks off down the hallway. 

Rhodey chuckles. “That’s appropriate.” He slips an arm around Pepper’s shoulders. Pepper, for her part, meets Steve’s eyes and holds them as she demands, “Bring him back to us, Steve.”

Steve nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

Thor blows out a gusty breath and says, “I am truly sorry, my friends, for my part in this.” Steve wants to absolve him, but he can’t find the words right now. None of them answer beyond a tight nod, and Thor excuses himself to follow the others to the conference room. 

Silence gathers around the four of them. Steve wonders if they should find some chairs or something, but there are only a few minutes left and he doubts any of them want to risk being elsewhere in case Friday is wrong about when Tony will be waking up. Wanda shuffles a little, tapping her plain wedge heels in a distracted rhythm. They are still hovering outside the door a short time later when Steve and Bucky pick up on the sounds of shuffling inside the room. Then there is a sharp gasp and Tony shouting, “Jarvis! Jarvis, come here, please!! Jarvis!”

Steve holds up a fist, stopping Bucky from rushing into the room. They need to give Tony a minute to acclimate before dumping more impossible things on him. Tony continues to shout periodically for Jarvis and his mother. Steve can hear him get up and move around the room. He comes to a stop on the other side of the door. 

“Jarvis?” Tony’s voice wobbles, and then Steve can hear Tony start to cry. “Mom?” 

Steve drops his hand to the doorknob, ready to go in and be Captain America, save his loved one, when Tony, rather hopelessly calls, “Howard?”

Steve squares his shoulders and tries to channel as much of the comic book Captain America as he can manage. He opens the door.

Tony takes one look at him and scrambles back into the bed, pulling the covers up over his head. Steve freezes at that reaction, not at all sure how to deal with it. Tony’s started hyperventilating; he hasn’t looked back at Steve once.

Bucky elbows Steve in the side. Steve clears his throat, forces himself to deliver his line, “Howard? Did it work?”

“I am _not_ Howard!” Tony practically shrieks, blankets still over his head.

Steve flounders. _Dammit_ , this is not going well. He was never that great with kids. Bucky slants him a look that tells Steve he’s thinking the same, then goes over to sit on the edge of the bed, well back from where Tony has curled himself into a ball. “What’s your name then?” His voice is light and genuinely curious.

Tony pokes his head up from the blankets. His hair is fluffed out and his eyes are narrowed suspiciously at Bucky. Tony studies the man on his bed for a long moment before his shoulders drop slightly and he asks, “Why are you dressed like Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky slowly smiles. “Because I am Bucky Barnes. And that’s Captain Rogers, Lieutenant Barton and Nurse Maximoff.” He nods to the others gathered just inside the room.

“Bullshit,” Tony blurts.

“Language,” Steve says, the retort coming instinctually. Tony squeaks and ducks back under the blanket. Clint is shaking with silent laughter and Wanda loses the battle against her grin.

“Is it really him, Bucky?” Tony whispers from his fabric shelter.

“Yes,” Bucky whispers back. “I think you should come out and talk to us. We brought you here because we need your help.” Slowly, Tony extracts himself from the covers and then from the bed, straightening up to an approximation of a soldier’s attention.

Steve clears his throat and uses his soft, talking-to-civilians voice to ask, “Can you tell us your name, son?” Bucky nods encouragingly at Tony.

“It’s Tony. But I’m not supposed to look like this!” He squirmed, hands twisting together before bursting out with, “I would really appreciate it if you could tell me what’s going on.”

“We have intel that Hydra has found a new way of encrypting their transmissions based on an alien device.” He holds up the puzzle. “We haven’t been able to break the code, but we were able to steal this while raiding a Hydra base last month. It’s some kind of puzzle.”

“How do you know it’s alien?”

“Howard Stark said he’d never seen anything like it.” Steve silently hopes this Tony hasn’t lost too much of the ingrained belief of every child that their parents know everything. Surely it helps that Howard did know an awful lot.

“What does that have to do with me? Why am I like this?”

“We weren’t able to find a way to bring your body back in time, just your mind. I guess time travel is really hard?” Steve tries an aw-shucks grin. “So, you’re driving, but it’s still your pop’s car, see?”

Tony scrunches his face up in disgust. “I’m in Howard’s body? Uggh, that is sooooo gross!” Tony makes exaggerated retching noises. “Oh, God, I’m so old. I’m – ugh.” He shudders.

“Tony.” Steve puts a little bit of reprimand in the name, trying to get them back on track before his boyfriend falls asleep again. They are running out of time.

Tony’s face falls, heartbreak clear in his brown eyes. As an adult, Tony would never have allowed such emotion to show on his face. It’s so unexpected, it makes Steve feel like he’s done something colossally wrong. Tony abruptly turns his back to the group. He folds his arms across his check and his shoulders hunch up around his ears. They wait a long moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything further.

“Tony?” Bucky calls softly.

“I can’t help Captain America! I’m only seven. I can’t even help in the lab. Dad says I’m just in the way and I can only use what’s leftover.”

“Well, your Dad is the one who thought you could help us today. He built a machine that would find the right mind for our job and then he let you borrow his body here. You’re the only one who can save us. The device is a thinking puzzle, and we need a young mind to do it.”

“It’s sentient?” Tony asks, peeking back over his shoulder.

Bucky twitches a little at the question. Steve replies, “Yeah, a bit. It won’t play with any of the grownups who have tried it, but it’s too hard for any kids we know.” 

Steve offers the toy to Tony, who eyes it for a long moment before looking back at Steve. “Is it gonna explode?” Tony asks.

Steve summons a serious but (hopefully) inspiring expression. “I honestly don’t know what will happen if we can’t solve it.” He keeps his voice calm, but it’s a near thing. Steve doesn’t want to think about how that statement is all too true. “Your dad was too busy running out looking for you to do much with it. We need you, Tony, to help us take down Hydra before more people get hurt.”

Steve can see the resolve wrap around Tony’s spine. His eyes flash with a very familiar determination. He reaches out to snatch the toy from Steve, but pulls his hands back at the last moment. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles, “Will you be mad at me if I can’t do it?”

Steve’s gut clenches tight at the fear in Tony’s voice. He pulls up all his willpower to keep his voice steady when he answers, “Tony, I think you are the bravest person I have ever met. To be forced back in time, with no say in the matter, and still want to help? That’s incredible. I think you’re gonna beat this doodad, but I could never be mad at you for trying to do the right thing, no matter what happens.”

The last of Tony’s hesitance melts away when Steve finishes speaking, and a moment later Steve has Tony in his arms. Steve eagerly wraps his boyfriend up in a hug, careful to keep the puzzle from digging into Tony’s back. He can feel the seconds ticking away, but Steve knows better than to pull back first. Soon enough, Tony steps back and plucks the toy out of Steve’s hand.

Tony weighs the puzzle in his hands, tossing it lightly back and forth. “Dodecahedron,” he mutters. Humming softly, he nudges a couple of the colored tabs. The next thing Steve knows, Tony’s fingers are flying over the sides in a flurry of soft clicks.

Clint whistles. “Wow, you’re just gonna dive right in, huh, kiddo?” 

“Shut it, birdbrain.” Tony replies, without looking up from the device. He remains oblivious as three jaws drop simultaneously. Even Wanda’s eyes round in shock. The implications of that offhand comment – some part of their Tony must be in there somewhere! Steve feels a rush of hope so potent, he looks down to make sure that he is still connected to the ground. Bucky’s just about vibrating out of his skin and Clint looks like Tony just uttered the sweetest endearment he’s ever heard and he’s fighting off a swoon.

Wanda moves, calmly walking over to stand at Bucky’s side, which puts her behind Tony. He hasn’t paid her any mind yet; his attention is still fixed on his task. She reaches out towards him without making contact. After a second’s concentration, the familiar red mist appears at her fingers. It creeps up the back of his neck and through his hair, hugging close to his skull. She makes a face of discomfort, but manages to keep quiet. Bucky grimaces and curls his hands into tight fists. He meets Steve’s eyes and holds them, deliberately not looking at what Wanda’s doing. Steve looks back, trying to project comfort.

There’s a definitive sounding click from the Asgardian device and Tony hums softly. Steve glances at the little toy to see that all the tabs are now white. Tony grips the top and bottom sides and gives the thing a sharp twist. It folds, several of the sides collapse into each other until suddenly, it looks a lot more like a cube. Another twist and Tony’s holding a cylinder, each side stacked neatly together like tiny dessert plates. He glances up at Steve, triumphant and pleased. 

“Okay, now what’s supposed to hap – “ Tony’s words cut off and his face scrunches up in pain. A second passes and the room seems to hold its breath, then Tony’s hands fly to his head and he screams, a horrible, pained scream. Steve dives forward to catch the toy Tony has dropped, terrified of what might happen if this one breaks, and manages to slide on his knees to snatch it up just before it hits the ground. It lets out a series of musical chimes and begins shifting back to its starting shape, plates moving against each other on their own.

Glancing up, he sees that Wanda has clamped her hands down on Tony’s shoulders. Her power is flaring bright around them. Tony is still screaming and clutching his head, right up until he goes abruptly silent and crashes to the ground in front of Steve. Wanda follows him down and keeps him more or less upright.

“Cap!” Clint barks. His voice is the one he uses mid-battle, and Steve is on his feet and turning towards Clint without hesitation. Steve does hesitate, ever so slightly, when he realizes that Clint and Bucky are _fighting_. No, not exactly. Clint is doing his best to hold Bucky back from Wanda and Tony on the floor. Bucky is glaring venom at Wanda, and Steve guesses he only has a second or two to spare before Bucky realizes why he can’t get to her and Clint gets himself punched. Still, Steve spends one of those seconds to glance back at Tony. 

He wishes he hadn’t, because Tony has started shaking, or maybe seizing, and Steve can’t go to him. He throws himself at Bucky instead. He passes the toy off to Clint, gets a grip on Bucky’s shoulders and yanks him around in one smooth movement. Steve vaguely registers that Clint grabs at the little device and sets it off to the side before he folds down beside the pair on the floor. Most of his attention is on Bucky, who has decided to move on to the punching part of the program. Steve dodges several blows and partially deflects others while he keeps up a steady stream of calm but commanding words directed at his boyfriend. “It’s okay, Bucky. You need to let her help him. Stand down, Barnes.” Finally, Steve manages to catch one of Bucky’s flailing fists and uses his momentum to slam Bucky against the wall. “Stand down!”

Bucky twists sharply away and brings his metal arm up to slam into Steve’s face. Growling, he tries to dodge around Steve’s left. Reeling from the blow, Steve just manages to kick a leg out and trip up Bucky. Steve quickly pushes at his slightly off-balance opponent and the two of them tumble out into the hallway. He has time to shout for help before Bucky hits him in the stomach and Steve doubles over. Steve catches Bucky around the waist, planting his weight and holding on. He manages to keep Bucky back, despite the way that his stomach is roiling. Then Thor is there, a massive arm wrapped around Bucky’s chest, and Steve can ease back a little. 

Bruce is asking urgent questions about Tony’s status, about Wanda, and Steve doesn’t know how to answer any of them. Steve doesn’t have _anything_ for them.

It occurs to Steve, all at once, that the last sound he may ever hear from Tony is that agonized scream.

*******************

Wanda is focusing on keeping the feeling of hunger at bay and trying to ignore the way the parasite (she refuses to call it a spell, it is clearly a parasite) whines its need in her head, like a psychic mosquito she has to keep batting away. There is a flash of gleeful pride from Stark, and that is all the warning she gets before being mentally slammed by _Tony Stark_. She can feel his body slipping away from hers and she grabs on as best she can, but their physical forms are quickly becoming unimportant in the face of the storm of memories she finds herself in.

It’s a hurricane; pieces of Tony’s life lash against her mind like torrential rain rattling the window, drowning the outside world.

They are standing in front of two caskets, frozen in place, _oh, God_ , what the hell are they going to do now? They just finished the novel in one sitting; their thumbs are smeared with ink from the cheap paperback and they are only just realizing they haven’t eaten all day. They are running their hands up Clint’s thighs as they tongue at the head of his cock. They watch as Howard throws the mini-bot into the wall and it bursts apart into too many broken pieces. They are sweating under the relentless sun, sand stretching out all around them and body throbbing after the crash landing. They are moaning Steve’s name as they come over their own hand. They can’t draw a full breath, the arc reactor _hurts_ , so much, all the time. They are playing the piano for Pepper, slowly, the notes flowing out of them. They are staring at the pictures this barely-remembered blonde woman has spread out in front of them, but they can clearly hear the smirk in her voice when she tells him how much money it will take to make them disappear before the press finds out. They really wish Rhodey would stop shouting, they didn’t know that the reaction would be quite that exothermic, _honestly_. They got Bruce’s coffee exactly right this morning and his smile felt better than getting their first patent. 

Bucky is behind them, gently nipping at their ear. It’s dark and quiet and they feel safe and warm. They feel _right_ , and the memory starts to coalesce around them. Clint slips into the bed in front of them, smelling like soap. Steve’s just entered the room. He’s puttering around, putting a watch away and picking up the socks that hadn’t quite made it to the hamper, but he’ll be tangled up together with them soon. They love these men, so much it hurts sometimes, their tired heart tripping in their chest at the thought of what they have. 

Wanda feels the memory settling into place like a great stone coming to rest at the bottom of a river. The storm is passing. Suddenly, she is watching Steve climb into bed from across the room. He is squirming between Tony and Bucky and demanding kisses from each of them. Tony’s squawking in mock outrage, but he can’t keep the grin off his face. Steve’s teasing gradually loses volume, the colors of the memory bleed out and Wanda gently lets it go. She steps out of Tony’s mind as easily as walking out of the room.

She opens her eyes and meets Clint’s. He is crouched over them, one hand on Wanda’s elbow. Stark is passed out, slumped half in her lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He groans, faintly. His face is still scrunched up in pain, though he doesn’t wake up when she clears her throat to report to Clint. “I think it’s all back. At least up until the incident.” She hums a bit. “I didn’t see anything from this past week.”

Relief breaks over Clint’s face. “That’s amazing, Wanda. Thank you, thank you so much!” He looks at Stark. “May I?”

Wanda shrugs. “I’ve no need of him.”

Clint doesn’t hesitate another moment, scooping the unconscious man into his arms and staggering to his feet. Stark grumbles and nuzzles his face into Clint’s neck. Clint’s eyes go suspiciously bright before he nods to Wanda and turns to go. She lets her eyes slip closed, somewhat exhausted by the ordeal.

“Get some rest, Clint,” she mumbles to his back as he heads out the door. “All of you.”

“Sure thing, kid,” he replies.

There is a brief cacophony when he opens and steps through the door, everyone is desperate for an update but they seem to be catching on to Stark’s new gig of _pained_ unconsciousness. Most of those gathered in the hallway peel off to take Stark back upstairs or to medical or something. Away, anyway. Their footsteps fade as the group moves off down the hall. Wanda keeps her eyes closed until she feels Vision wrap his arms around her. She tilts her head back and smiles for him. “You did very well. Thank you, Wanda,” he says.

“Yes, thank you, Ms Maximoff,” Pepper echoes from where she is standing just inside the door. Wanda tilts her head, trying to get a low-level read off the CEO who hasn’t dropped her gaze yet. Pepper is a flame, hot and bright but steady in Wanda’s mind. Though Pepper is sincere in her gratitude, there’s more to this little confrontation than that and Wanda bristles slightly.

Pepper lets out a slow breath, just a sliver away from an actual sigh. “I know you have had access to Tony’s mind before, but am I correct in assuming that you just had rather…unfiltered access?”

“I have been up close and personal with parts of Clint’s anatomy that I would like to pretend never existed,” Wanda replies.

Pepper _almost_ smiles. “And for that, you have my sympathies. I am rather more interested in finding out when you are available to sign some NDAs for me.”

The stare-down that follows is impressive. Wanda holds her comments for now, holds her breath, and holds her face impassive. The tension slowly spools around them, the wire pulling taut. Until Vision breaks the stalemate with a calm, “Not everyone, Wanda. Not all the time.”

The moment snaps around her, and Wanda lets her breath out in a rush. She has spent many evenings with Vision lately, talking about how she doesn’t have to be constantly fighting those she knows, the way she had lived for so long. That her safety is assured now in the team. That she is cared for. She still doesn’t manage to keep all the resentment out of her voice when she offers a curt, “Fine. You know where I live.”

Pepper does smile then, a little thing that’s sharp like a razor. “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up immediately. And, truly, thank you.” She softens, just a little. “He means so much to us and we’re all grateful.”

*******************

Tony claws himself awake in his own bed, though the headache pounding in his skull makes him almost wish it was a hospital, because then there would be the good drugs. _Almost._ He doesn’t risk opening his eyes, just lets himself lose the battle with unconsciousness. 

The next time Tony wakes up, he feels more like a human person and less like an abstraction with a demolition zone where his head should be. He manages to lift himself up and look around the bedroom. His head throbs, but he ignores it as best he can because he’s just caught sight of Clint. Clint is passed out sitting up on the floor, having crammed himself into the corner. Tony knows that’s something he usually does when he’s feeling very unsettled. Or guilty or unworthy. Which is just stupid, because unless he’s forgetting something, this little mishap is his fault. Note to self: don’t shoot at alien tech when not in the armor. Tony tries to get up and go to his dozing boyfriend, but that sends a new spike of agony through his skull. He must make some sort of noise, because the next thing he knows, Clint is at the bed. Tony stares up at his boyfriend’s worried face. He tries to lighten the mood, but his clever quip is reduced to a rusty-sounding “hey” by his sore throat. Was he screaming?

“Hi, Tony,” Clint whispers. He is staring intently at Tony’s face, searching for something. He looks as worried as Tony has ever seen him. Which really shouldn’t be the case over a little explosion-induced migraine, he’s done much worse to himself. The pieces click together then, sending a wave of fear through his stomach and another spike of pain through his head. Clint isn’t a worrier. If it was Tony’s injury making Clint act like this, his other boyfriends would have been all over him. They are nowhere to be seen; ergo something’s happened to Bucky or Steve or both. He feels his anxiety start to ratchet up and forces himself into battle-calm. Tony still has to clear his throat before he can force the question out.

“Where’s Steve?”

Clint’s face crumples at the question, so fast that Tony doesn’t even get a chance to ask about Bucky. Tony’s stomach turns to water when Clint starts crying. Oh _hell_ , what’s going on? He’s summoned the suit before he quite realizes that’s what he’s doing, but fine, that’s fine, let’s go. Mark XLV is assembling behind Clint, since he is still bent over Tony in the bed and squeezing both of Tony’s hands in his. Time to gather some information. Tony clears his throat again, and is pleased when his voice comes out calm and firm. “Clint, I need you to tell me if you are okay, please sweetheart.”

Clint sniffs and drops one of Tony’s hands to roughly scrub the tears off his face. “Yeah, sorry, Tony. I’m sorry. I’m fine. It’s just been a hard week and for a second there we were repeating a conversation that went very badly last time.”

Okay, that doesn’t make sense to Tony, but Clint is calming down. “Okay. Clint, where are Bucky and Steve?” Tony asks, preparing for ‘medical’ or ‘kidnapped by Hydra.’

“Patrolling the tower.”

Tony frowns. “Patrolling…the tower? The tower with the world’s most advanced AI monitoring and security measures? Friday, everything okay, dear?”

“Yes, boss. I think everything is going to be fine now.” The A.I. sounds pleased.

Clint smiles slightly at the ceiling before he sobers again. “Bucky was having a really hard time waiting for you to wake up. We all wanted to make sure that your mind had time to put itself back, so we wouldn’t risk waking you.”

“Put itself back.” _What the hell did that mean?_

“What’s the last thing you remember, Tony?”

“Eating breakfast with my boyfriends. Bucky made French toast. You stole all the cantaloupe again, you sneak. Then I went to the lab to work on the watch gauntlet,” Tony answers. 

Clint lets out a long breath and cups his hands around Tony’s face. “Friday, please let the others know that Tony’s up and put the armor away, okay? Tony, I need to kiss you now.”

His headache is still there, but it seems incredibly unimportant in the face of Clint’s glassy red eyes. “Anytime.” Tony barely gets the word out before Clint is kissing him, tasting of desperation. Tony opens to him, keeps his own lips gentle and lets Clint take comfort from him. After an intense few seconds, Clint sinks down into the bed with him, slipping his arm under Tony without breaking the kiss. Alright. Tony can get the story later, he pulls back just enough to breathe and whisper reassurances to his boyfriend in between kisses.

There’s a thud as the door to the bedroom is thrown open. Tony tries to sit up, but Clint chases his lips and it’s a moot point when Tony feels Steve hit the bed a moment later. Clint leaves one more lingering kiss to Tony’s mouth before big hands turn his face away. Tony meets worried blue eyes. 

“Are you back, Tony?” Steve whispers. Tony’s still uncomfortable with the implications of that question, but Steve looks as desperate as Clint had been, so it’s only fair that he gets the same reassurances. Tony takes his time with Steve’s mouth, feels his boyfriend melt into the bed and keeps at him until he’s drawn out the tiny happy groan that means Steve is well on his way to wrecked.

Tony pulls back with a soft gasp. There is a glaring absence in the bed, and it’s time to rectify that. “Bucky?” he whispers, craning his head to look around. Bucky is hovering just inside the doorway, looking twitchy and miserable.

“We should talk about what happened,” Bucky says, voice low and soft as if he’s still afraid of waking Tony.

Tony manages to get a hand out from the cuddle pile and reach out for Bucky. “Okay, sure, but you are going to do it over here where I can make sure you are okay, or else I am coming over there myself and I’m not sure I can stand up without passing out right now.”

Bucky makes a wounded sound, but he’s still hesitating. Steve, taking advantage of Tony’s lifted head, starts to massage Tony’s neck and _hhnnngg_ that feels so good. Tony lets out an indecent moan which mingles with the sound of Clint’s laughter and Bucky’s cursing. When Tony manages to open his eyes, Steve’s got his smug grin on and Bucky is crawling up the bed to them. Steve sits up to snatch their boyfriend and tuck him securely next to Tony. Bucky immediately gets his hands on Tony’s face, gently tracing his fingers over it before sliding them back into Tony’s hair and rubbing his scalp. Tony feels every last bit of tension release, his body almost floating with the sudden reduction in pain. Bucky kisses him lightly, just twice, but keeps rubbing Tony’s head and Tony is never going to move again for anything short of an alien invasion.

“Tell me you’re okay,” Tony whispers. “And then you can tell me what’s going on.” 

“I’m okay now,” Bucky replies and proceeds to tell Tony what is surely a condensed version of the events of the past week, helped along by Steve and Clint when he gets choked up at times. Tony learns just how close he came to losing himself, and how it was fixed. He’s going to owe Wanda another vacation. He’s told a _very_ obviously censored description of what his boyfriends went through and by the time they stop speaking Tony is shaking. Guilt and fear swirl in his head, how could he be so stupid? He almost cost himself everything and they would have been the ones suffering for it. It’s only the warmth of the bodies bracketing his that keeps him from drowning in the feeling.

The others notice, and suddenly Bucky’s mouth is on his again, but this time he’s anything but gentle. Tony knows it’s meant to distract him from those thoughts – they know him far too well – but he’ll take it. He can always have a breakdown in the workshop later. Bucky plunges his tongue into Tony’s mouth and Tony can’t help pressing back to meet each stroke. Steve reaches over Bucky to grab Tony’s hip, fingers slipping under Tony’s shirt to press against his skin. Clint wraps himself around Tony’s back, and his strong arms around Tony’s chest are home. God, he could have lost this.

There’s a lot more kissing, deep and affirming, and a little more crying. Tony is passed around to each of them in a way that he would normally object to, but being held tight, surrounded by each of them in turn is just what they all need right now. Slowly, the urgency ebbs, and then it’s just gentle hands and mouths anywhere they can reach and so much love. 

He startles, badly, when his stomach growls an unknown amount of time later. Once he stops laughing, Steve offers to bring him a granola bar. Bucky is emphatically against it.

Clint agrees, “Yeah, fuck that. I am going to make you grilled cheese.” His smile is almost manically gleeful when he meets Tony’s eyes. He’s oddly enthusiastic about the hot cheese sandwich concept, but Tony isn’t going to question it right now. “Sound good, babe?”

Tony snags his wrist as he starts to leave the bed. “Yeah, but, stay just a little longer, please? It can wait for a few more minutes.” Clint’s face softens and he slides back down to tuck his face into Tony’s neck. Tony sighs happily. He’s surrounded by the men he loves more than his own life, feeling warm and safe and unsurprisingly well-rested. He squeezes Clint’s hand and kisses each of them again. This moment is one to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, it's done!!! I think I need to lie down on the floor and either laugh or cry. Hope you enjoyed this fic and thank you for reading!


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